Allegiance
by Robin Mask
Summary: Thor could not deny the atrocities that his brother had committed. It seemed to many that there could be no forgiveness, but Thor would fight for his brother's redemption. He would endure the political marriage and oncoming war, because they needed Loki. They needed him.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Initially this will be a one-shot. I do have a longer story-arc in mind, if there is any interest, but the genre would shift into a dark romance.

Dedicated to_ Vicky Voltaire_, without her passion for the Marvel series this story may never have existed.

**Allegiance**

"Well, this _is _a surprise."

Loki looked towards Thor with a mischievous smile.

It was almost as if nothing out of the norm had ever occurred, as if it were the Loki of old looking back at him. There was darkness to those green eyes, that much was undeniable, but they held a focus and determination that had yet to be broken down and melted away. They held anger and pain, emotions that had been with Loki for as long as anyone could remember. The only change was the slight tiredness to them that signalled something – whatever that may be – _had _broken.

Loki had lost the most important thing to him: his pride. The silver-tongued, intellectually gifted, Machiavellian man had been manipulated and essentially brainwashed into actions that were against his will. The one gift he cherished above all others – the one thing that he could be proud of, the one thing _truly _his own – had been taken from him. It had been a cruel blow to his ego. How often was an Asgardian prince threatened and forced into submission? Not only that, but he had lost the love of their father, the one person to whom all this had been for . . . fears of abandonment realised, the suspicions of rejection actualised . . . did he even realise that he had been the one to make his worst fears come true?

In a way it had not been his fault, but the initial wanton attempt at genocide of the Jotun race had been his conscious decision, it had not been the choice or influence of any other mind but his own. The sceptre also only magnified emotions, it couldn't _create _them, and so his feelings of anger and violence had been there from the start, almost as if they had always been with him, bubbling under the surface. The question was whether he was made that way by the feelings of inadequacy or born that way. Had their father created this man before him or was it this man's blood that made him nothing but a monster to their father?

"Look who has dared to deign me with his presence."

"This isn't a game, Loki!"

"No? Then enlighten me. What is it? It seems to me that you – Thor _Odinson – _have played one _spectacular_ game. You fought with your men in a team, you stood up against your opponent fearlessly, and now you have captured the king piece. The problem is, no one ever stops to think what happens to the captured king when the game is at an end. What _ever _will you do with me?"

It was true that he had been captured. He had stood tall as a king and fallen as a man, but he was gracious in his defeat. Thor had thought their father would be proud, that his son had taken defeat like a true hero, but it seemed that he would rather have Loki died upon the battlefield. The man before him now no longer looked a king at all. He was regal, yes, but he was a man lost and yet found, a man imprisoned in what had once been his home. He lived for one reason only: Frigga.

Their mother alone had stood up for her son.

It seemed that, even if Loki knew how much he was loved, that he did not care. He sat upon the length of the bench inside his cell with an all too casual look, with legs spread and hands clasped lazily in his lap. His back was slouched, and his hair was now a mess and loose, no longer slicked back, and the power and passion of his facial expressions had been washed away with defeat. Thor stood before him tall and wondered who his brother had become. This was the man who had once owned three sets of decorated armour for every set of Thor's, the man who would pride himself on his appearance to the point of adopting local attire even when he was invisible to the locals, and yet here he was: defeated.

"You are no king!" Thor screamed. "You are man who merely borrowed the throne of and twisted it to suit his purpose! The only true king is our father, Odin Borson, the Allfather! You will show him respect!"

"He? A king? You never used to be the funny one, Thor."

"I mean it, Loki, you will not disrespect our father! It was he who grieved the most when you were gone. The mourning period nearly sent him back into a sleep, and the celebratory feasts for your wake were dimmed by the sadness in his eyes. He told the most stories of your escapades, and yet every word from his mouth was filled with pain. He loved you . . . perhaps most of all."

"He never loved me! He admitted as much once you were gone! I was nothing but a _pawn_; I was a _thing _that was meant only to further his political agenda! I was worthless to one father and a tool to another!"

"That is a lie! He loved you, he saw you as a beacon of hope!"

"The old fool saw me as nothing but a _beast_!

Loki stood tall and came before Thor. He was clearly unafraid of his elder brother, knowing that the older man's love would prevent him from harming him physically in any way other than what was necessary and in self-defence. They had come to blows whilst growing up, with sometimes Loki winning by trickery and sometimes Thor winning by sheer force, but neither would fight now. Thor was only allowed into this grand dungeon cell by the kindness of their father, and the slightest hint of violence on either's part would result in a rescindment of such an allowance: Thor would lose his brother and Loki would lose his only guest.

"Do not insult our father!" Thor spat.

"_He _told us that we were _both _born to be kings! The only reason I was born to be a king is because I was stolen from the lap of a Frost Giant sovereign! I was born a monster! I was left to die _by_ a monster! Not only did our father lie, but he also stole a child that even damned _beasts _could not stand to raise!"

"So you would rather he had left you to die?"

Loki merely sneered and curled his lip in response. The silver-tongued prince rarely let said tongue turn to lead, and when he did it was often a part of his manipulations and in his benefit to do so. Thor would have allowed it, he would have allowed his brother that moment of control to save his pride, but the very _thought _that Loki would prefer death to life was infuriating! Thor could not imagine a life without his brother. He had travelled the universe to find him, and so to hear that he would prefer death to life was simply too much. It seemed that the younger man was intent to live in misery, refusing to listen to words of love. Did he do this merely to spite Thor?

Thor grabbed his brother's wrist and flung him across the room. One side of the cell was a mere wall of glass for the guards to look in on their rounds, but the rest was a simple and spacious white space designed to hold royal prisoners. There was a bed to the far side and a table to the side closest to the door, besides which sat a pile of books, and of course the long white bench on the wall facing the glass . . . a bowl for washing, a table and chair for reading . . . no doubt that his brother felt like an animal in a cage. He was something without freedom, a creature to be watched and controlled, and the only privacy he had came from the attached bathroom area that was nothing like the luxury he had once known. The clothes he wore represented his criminal status well. He wore nothing but a green hooded jumpsuit made from the roughest of materials. He looked rough himself.

Loki gained his balance and shook himself where he stood, before he sent a dark glare to Thor and dropped himself down onto the edge of the bed. He threw up his hands in mock defeat, whilst he wore a soft smirk on his face, and somehow – against his wishes – Thor found himself smiling at how Loki regained control of the situation. It was almost as if the old Loki were back. He remembered the way the troublesome man would smile up at their father with an innocent smile as a child, the way he could make almost anyone fall for his charms . . . only Thor seemed to see past that.

"I asked you a question," Thor snapped.

The young prankster sent a glance to the glass on his left. It was strange, almost as if he were searching for someone or trying to ascertain whether or not they were being listened to, but Thor knew that – even though that was not the case – there would be no convincing Loki of that. The white cell contained only the bare minimum for comfort and the sustaining of sanity; no doubt the lack of privacy would contribute to paranoia. What else could he do – other than to read – to keep his mind sharp?

"I may as well have already died," Loki said coldly. "To _your _father I am already dead. I am no longer Loki Odinson. I am no longer the son of your king. The man before you is nothing but the abandoned child of a Frost Giant . . . Loki Laufeyson. I am here before you as a shadow of a man. I am _nothing_."

"That is not the Loki I remember, Brother! Where is the man that would delay my ascension to the throne with his pranks, because he knew that I was ill-equipped for such a role, because he wanted to protect the people of our realm?"

"That man never existed," Loki hissed.

There was an intense anger that coursed through Thor's veins. It was something that was slow at first, the irritation of being called a liar by the one person notorious for nothing but lies, and then it simmered to the surface and boiled over. He would not stand for insults against his brother, even by his brother himself. The fury inside him was almost painful to contain. It caused him to shake and snarl, until he broke under the intense pressure and grabbed at the reading-table. He threw it at the glass wall.

The table smashed against the glass wall with great force, but – true to Asgardian standards – it did not break and merely scattered itself across the room. The wall glowed a faint golden-yellow with the magic that had protected it from shattering. It would have been a truly frightening sight, were it not for Loki's rather mocking smile, as if he knew for a certainty that his brother's temper-tantrum was merely a childish display and not a true attempt at intimidation. Thor wanted nothing more than to strike some sense into Loki, but that would be nothing but futile. Loki _wanted _to be hit. It would be validation of his incorrect beliefs, a way of 'proving' how right he was that he was unloved, and he would only mock Thor after if he did strike him.

"You seem surprised," Loki said calmly.

"Do not _dare _to tell me that the brother I knew was merely a lie!"

"You should know me by now, lying is what I do best."

Thor looked down at the younger man on the bed. It was almost pitiable how Loki sought to appear so strong and powerful, because the fear in his eyes was as plain now as it had ever have been. The only difference was that – long ago – he had known his limitations. There were those that called it cowardice at the time, but it was more than that; he had never turned his back out of fear, but out of respect and the tactical understanding of the importance of retreat.

He had been silenced by their father on Thor's exile, not out of fear or weakness, but out of reverence for the older man and a respect for the rightful order. He had gracefully accepted defeat at the hands of the 'Avengers', because he had known the futility of fighting past his defeat. The only time he had ever fought back without considering his actions, the only time he had so violently betrayed the morals that he had been raised by, had been the time he had been tortured with heat, manipulated by the sceptre, and threatened with violence . . . it was understandable why he would act so cruelly under such circumstances. His eyes had turned such a shade of blue, one that Thor would never forget . . .

"You seem upset, Brother." Loki smiled warmly and opened his arms wide as if welcoming the other. "Would you like me to kiss it all better?"

"This is not the time for your jokes!"

"Oh, but it is! You accuse me of lying, but am I _truly _lying? The only reason that I live is because _our mother _had to beg for the orders of my execution to be annulled; if it were not for her love I would be _dead _right now. The first words spoken to me by our father were 'the boy I knew is dead'. That is what I am to him now; a 'creature' that he does not recognise, the son of Laufey . . . a monster! I – _I _am the monster that parents warn their children of at night! I am the monster men fear they will become and seek to destroy! I am _nothing_ and yet _you _dare to call _me _the liar for admitting so! You are the liar, _Brother_!"

"You are not nothing!" Thor cried. "You are my brother! We were raised together, we _played _together, and we _fought_ together! You only did what you did out of feelings of pain, your feelings were manipulated tenfold and you were threatened into action! These were the actions of a desperate man, not of a monster or a killer!"

"What do you know of my motives? When was the last time you stepped down and looked at the man trapped beneath your heel? When was the last time you looked away from the light of our father and looked into the shadows behind you? You know nothing about how I feel! The mortals themselves paint me as a villain, let alone _your_ dear father. How often did we visit their world? Do you know the things they say?"

"The mortals are ignorant to the truth!"

Loki rolled his eyes and looked away from Thor. It was a hard look to decipher, because it could have been a symbol of shame as much as it could have been a sign of disrespect. He brought one leg up to touch upon the black frame of the bed, whilst he wrapped his arms around it in a loose and lazy hold, and his black hair – frizzy and unkempt – hid part of his pale face from view. He seemed to be almost thoughtful and patient, reminding Thor of his brother before all that had happened occurred. It reminded him of the days where they would sit side by side, or even lie lazily on bed beside one another, and Loki would listen to Thor's latest tales of adventure or practise magic as Thor stole some extra hours of sleep. How many times had Thor hidden in Loki's room to escape their father or their tutors? It was too many to count.

"So you have heard about the 'origins' of Sleipnir? You know of the _reputation_ they give me? _They cannot even remember my name_! They confuse my tales with _Logi_; I am made out by them to be nothing more than a joke! Do you know how it feels to be a joke in one world and a punchline in another? I am better than that. I am a king and I _deserve _some respect! I take back _nothing_. I would do it all again, if I could."

"Are you so vain that you would let the tales of mere _mortals _fill you with self-loathing? It is human nature to create narratives of the universe, to explain what cannot be explained! You know this!"

"_What _do I know? Everything I knew was a lie!"

He stood tall before Thor. The two were a mere inch or so apart, both on edge with muscles tense and anger brewing, and yet neither could bring it upon themselves to back down or to back away. It was not unusual for them – in the past – to stand so close to one another, but now their relationship had changed and evolved, the tensions between them were too strong, and Thor was not sure that he could contain his emotions for long. He did not want to hurt his brother.

They stood for a long moment simply glaring at one another, with Thor clenching his fists so tightly that he was sure that blood was dripping from his palm, and both breathing so fiercely that their breaths sounded nothing more than forced hisses. Thor realised that they needed to calm down, because soon he would raise his fists or – worse yet – his hammer. Those green eyes were filled with venom. It wasn't hatred though, but something worse . . . years of jealousy, of self-hatred . . . years of believing himself to be second best and worthless that now festered behind otherwise handsome eyes. Did he truly think Thor the cause of such pain? Could it not be that instead Thor was merely a symptom of the pain that Loki sought to eradicate?

In a fearsome growl of fury Thor turned his back on his brother and smashed his fist hard upon the floor, sending reverberations throughout the cell, and Loki merely huffed out in amusement and dropped to the bed again. He sat with his body shaking – just slightly, so slightly it was barely perceptible – and kept his hard gaze on the floor with his lips pursed together to the point of paling. Thor eventually turned around and grabbed his brother by his neck; his hands and fingers entwined in hair and his thumbs stroked his jaw affectionately.

"You are not alone, Brother," Thor pleaded. "You must know that you are loved!"

"_I_? _Loved_? I think not. Your friends _despised _me, even when our mother _gave _me the throne they still treated me as if I were a mere usurper! I never asked to take over from our father, yet they treated me as if I were guilty of regicide! Even when I am right I am still wrong!"

"You are merely holding a grudge against my friends from when Sif rejected your flirtations!"

"Oh _please_, like I would ever want _your _sloppy seconds."

"Do not insult my friends!"

Loki made to pull away, but Thor held him in place with a strong grip. He was certain that his eyes were brimming with fury to the point that water gathered at their corners, but it seemed that his brother did not care, or – at least – he didn't care to show his concerns . . . since when did Loki believe the world to be beneath him? He was content to kill one race to prove his worth, content to subjugate another in order to exact a need for revenge deep within his heart, and now – of all things – he was insulting Thor's closest friends and their closest allies. It was difficult to tell whether this was a self-destructive need to be hurt, or whether it was true arrogance.

"Do not insult yourself . . ."

"Why should I not? They _never _liked me. They only endured me because _you _insisted on including me so often, if it weren't for you they would never have spoken to me. I don't merely refer to Sif's rejection, but to the things that they said . . . they did not trust me, not fully! I was just the trickster and the prankster! I was the joke! Why? What was it that I did to make father, your friends and _you, _all pity me so? I may not have had the _strength _that you do, but I was not weak!"

"No one ever said that you were weak!" Thor screamed. "There may be those that do not respect the ability of magic, especially in a man, but without your magic we would not have survived the ambush in Jotunheim!"

"That wasn't the _only _time my magic saved us. I remember a certain someone needed a fog for distraction in order to escape an oncoming army . . ."

"You still harp on about _that_? I could have won that fight easily!"

"Oh, of course, I don't doubt that at all."

Loki gave a rather arrogant grin. It was quite mocking, matching the sarcasm of his words well, and yet the way he reached up to take a hold of his brother's hands felt sincere and gentle. Thor still held upon his brother's neck and cheek, whilst Loki now held onto those same hands, and somehow – for just one moment – it felt as if they were back to being the siblings they had been long before this had begun. The silent moment between them lasted longer than it should have.

Thor let go of Loki and took a step back, a sad smile gracing his lips as he looked at the man that was his brother . . . he had never denied Loki, not even now when his true heritage had been revealed, but there would be no reassuring Loki of that fact. The younger man would forever fear abandonment . . . abandonment that had come at the hands of Laufey and now at the hands of Odin . . . there would be no reassuring him of how wanted he was, how truly needed he could be, and forever he would doubt himself and his very worth. His brother stayed upon the edge of bed again and smiled up at him, whilst Thor could only smile down in response.

"We make a good team, Brother," Thor said sadly.

"We _made _a good team," Loki said in exasperation. "Now you have your _new _brothers, not to mention that young maiden whose heart you've stolen . . . or was it her head? It always seemed to be one and the same to you."

"Do not bring Jane into this! My feelings for her are true!"

"Oh, I don't doubt _that_," Loki spat. "You refused to treat me as an equal even when I fought you with all I had, but the _moment _I uttered a word about that howling quim _you _suddenly start giving it your all. How interesting it is that a woman you had known for all of three days could mean more to you than your own brother. I should not be surprised, I am – after all – _nothing _to you."

"Will you never listen to the truth? If you meant nothing to me, if I had no respect for you, then I would not be here now, _begging _for you to return to your senses! Are you so wrapped up in your vanity that you can not see the world outside of yourself?"

"_You _talk to _me _about vanity?"

Loki scoffed loudly and raised his foot to the edge of the bed. He wrapped his arms around the limb, whilst he gave a rather dark smile to his brother. It was a smile that acted as something of a warning, with his lip curled in one corner and his eyes half-lidded as if he were seething behind their surface, and it only served to highlight the difference between the two brothers. Thor was the sort to strike out and break all in sight, with perhaps a verbal warning to those he cared most about, but Loki was not the sort for physical violence. He would only give 'the look' or a thinly veiled warned. He would never explicitly state his frustration.

"Your vanity would have led us all to war," Loki spat.

"I have grown since then!" Thor shouted, whilst he wrung the air itself. "I was not ready to be king, but this is a fact that I have learned to accept! I was not the one who – despite his wisdom and foresight – used his powers to commit treason and threaten the security of our kingdom! You could have merely voiced your concerns!"

"Who would have listened to me? You? _Father_? It didn't matter what I said, I would have only been accused of jealousy and ignorance! I did what I did to save our kingdom, our home . . . I did not expect you to be _banished_."

"I know, Brother. I am aware."

The two shared an awkward gaze as they absorbed that fact. There could be no denying that Loki had sincerely loved his brother, that he had never meant for him to be banished or disowned, but there was also no denying his opportunistic actions as he effectively sought to steal his way into being their father's favourite. It never occurred to him that their father did not have a favourite. It never occurred to him that he would be found out, that emotionally manipulating Thor would be cruel and also lead to his downfall, and it had never occurred to him that his attempt at genocide would actually go against everything their father believed in. He had lost the woods for the trees. He had failed to see the bigger picture. How could a man so smart be so blind? How could Loki have failed as he had?

Thor often wished that he could understand his brother's mind. He wanted to know how a man so loved – so admired and cherished by their father – could become so self-loathing as to think that he could get attention by acting out, to think that their father would hate a race so much that he would gain favour by destroying an entire people, by committing genocide . . . it was true that he was an Asgardian, but this was not an act of justice, but murder. It was made worse by that these people held his blood, and so Thor could only wonder if Loki felt himself _above _that race or was actually so disgusted by what he was that he would wipe out every last trace of it.

It was true that long ago Thor had thought war the answer. He had been willing to kill many for the actions of a few, but his time on Earth had changed that. He had seen the lives of the people, he had seen the love and evil they were capable of, that strange dichotomy in the hearts of souls of every human, and he came closer to understanding what his father meant. He came closer to seeing that the Jotun, the humans, and even the Asgardians were not all that different. War was not something to be craved. Thor would use his warrior strength to defend his people, because a true warrior fought with purpose and with honour, and in time he would perhaps learn a tolerance that seemed innate to humans such as Jane and Eric. He wanted to see that growth in Loki, but it seemed that only pain and despair grew in his heart. The sceptre had abused that, and many others would too if he did not learn to soothe his soul.

"If you were to just show some remorse," Thor pleaded, "our father would see sense."

"Would he? The only way he would release me would be if it provided some political or military benefit, and even then do you _truly _think he would trust me not to betray our race at the drop of a hat? I am nothing but a filthy Jotun. It doesn't matter if this is my home, the place of my family, the only reality I have _ever _known . . . I was even willing to kill the entirety of my blood relatives and home-world to prove my loyalty, my worth . . . to him I am nothing more than a monster. I will only leave here once I am a cold corpse. I shall not be allowed out alive."

"That is not true! If you showed genuine feelings of regret, if you _promised _to make recompense, I am filled with certainty that our father would allow your release. I would take responsibility for you. I promise that I shall not abandon you! You shall earn back your place as Loki Odinson! We shall return to our adventures with the Warriors Three and Lady Sif! All you need do is apologise."

"Oh, is that all?"

It had been a year since Thor had seen Loki since his 'death', and he had only just been sent to Earth to bring him back to their home, and yet he knew that tone of voice perfectly. The exaggerated disbelief, completed with the raised eyebrows and half-smile, signalled to Thor anger in his brother that would soon reach breaking point if not tempered soon. It seemed that shadows appeared under Loki's eyes as he lowered his head, and his skin paled as if holding onto what little patience he had left.

The man in green stood up and sent a dark and dangerous glare to his brother, one that spoke of years of resentment and bitter frustration. He did not step closer to Thor. He did not raise his voice or move to attack, perhaps because he knew the futility of such actions, but could it not be that he cared about his brother? Loki had not seemed to care whether Thor would be killed or not when he sent the Destroyer down to Earth, although a part of Thor liked to believe that his brother knew that – in a roundabout way – this would restore Thor's powers and bring him to life. This was a man who had seemed to wish Thor dead. Why did he now hold back his rage?

"I will never regret what I have done, _Thor_."

"Then I can do nothing but regret this conversation. You disappoint me, _Brother_."

"You _still _call me 'brother'? I should be the one disappointed in you."

"Goodbye, Brother."

Thor turned his back and left the cell at once. He could feel his hands shaking in sheer rage and frustration, but to express such fury before his brother would lead to a fight of otherworldly proportions, and that was something he could not risk. He wanted to see Loki again, to gain his trust, and he could not do that if his father forbade them from further contact. Instead he kept his back to Loki and walked on. He would try to learn from the past and stay calm.

"Yes, walk away, Thor. It's not as though there is anything here worth your time."

It was difficult to turn his back on his brother. There was nothing left to say at that point, plus both men would need time to gain their thoughts and regain their strength, and yet their felt something wrong about leaving a man who was convinced of his worthlessness. When Loki's voice rang out behind him, he could sense a raw emotion that he had not expected to find . . .

"Walk away, like I knew you would."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **The story is set after _Thor (2011) _and _Avengers Assemble (2012)_, but as it is set immediately before _Thor: The Dark World (2013) _it will diverge from this film's events entirely. This story will effectively be an alternate-timeline piece.

**Chapter Two**

Thor felt awed by his father.

There could be no denying that this man was a true king. He stood tall and proud, like a king should, and he exuded a strength that did not come from physical prowess, but from an innate emotional and intellectual understanding. It was as if he had been born with an innate understanding of the concept of power, as if he knew that respect was something to be earned and not demanded. He was a man who owned any room that he stood in. He was a man who commanded respect without demanding it. He was a man that Thor wished to be and the man he would one day become.

Odin stood before the cell with complete confidence and composure, and Thor could feel himself fidget and straighten at the realisation of how perfect his father seemed. It would likely be a gesture not lost on their prisoner, because the black-haired man was the sort of man to notice each and every detail, but Thor had acted on instinct before he had a chance to so much as think about what it was that he acted on. He now stood in emulation of his father: tall and unafraid. It would be impossible to exude the aura that his father did, that sense of power and control, but Thor had never been a man to pretend to be anything other than what he was. If he were nervous, he would not hide that, least of all not from Loki . . . albeit he knew his younger brother would beg to differ. Loki seemed to see in Thor things that Thor himself was oblivious to.

Where was the man that he had known? Where was Loki?

No sooner had Thor collected his thoughts had their father knocked his staff upon the floor with a heavy gesture, one that sent ripples of sound throughout the dungeons. It was enough to gain the attentions of the two brothers and several guards. The older man did not even have to look to know that the three guards had left the room, leaving the two to stand before Loki's cell alone and expectantly. He did not even have to utter a command to know that Loki would stand and wait patiently. He merely stood and waited and all else came naturally.

"I understand that you have spoken to my son Thor," Odin said.

There was not a single hint of anger or pain his voice, almost as if he were devoid of emotion entirely and talking with the disinterest of a politician to a prisoner of war, and his eyes were steely and cold. Thor knew that it took a lot for their father to lose his composure, but he had assumed that in such a circumstance – confronted with the sight of his youngest son trapped like an animal in a cage – that he would show some flicker of emotion. It seemed that Thor had misunderstood his father once more.

It appeared that his father was far better at controlling his feelings than Thor could ever hope to be, and the younger man could do nothing but wonder whether it truly was an impressive feat of remarkable self-control or something more . . . could it be that their father felt nothing at all? Thor did not want to think that. Still, he knew what duty meant to his father and admired him for putting the lives of their people before any one person, even if that one person were his son. It was an attitude that Thor sought to imitate, one completely opposite to his mother and brother, and yet there was something that his father had that he did not: self-control. That was one trait that Odin shared with his youngest son, one alien to Thor who could only admire it and hope to one day learn to incorporate it into his personality. Loki was so similar to Odin, but yet he held such contrasting ideals. Thor wondered if Loki saw it too.

"You are incorrect, _Allfather_," Loki said with a hint of bitterness. "It was _your _son who came here to speak to me. I am grateful for the company, especially for our mother's, but I cannot help but wonder how long it will be until I'm forgotten about entirely, like an old book left low on a shelf . . . or is that what you're here for? Are you here to tell me that these visits are now forbidden?"

"Quite the opposite, Loki. If you would be patient with me for a few moments, you will find that we have something of great import to discuss. It may be beneficial to you to listen without prejudice. I trust that you will listen."

"Do I have a choice in the matter?"

Loki came close to the glass. It seemed that he had slicked back his hair as best as he could with the water provided to him, but that this had not succeeded as well as it should. His long hair trailed down his back, but a few loose strands came over his shoulders in a way that made him look more like a typical warrior than an academic prince of the realm, and yet his green eyes remained as steely and focussed as their father's. They lacked Frigga's compassion. They lacked Thor's longing.

Did neither man long for the past? Thor could not believe that a true impasse had been reached, but merely that it was sheer stubbornness on both men's parts that prevented them from reaching a state of forgiveness. There had been a time when Thor had shared in their stubborn streak, he would not deny that, but even before he had grown as a man and as a warrior he had put his family before all else. He would never resort to violence against his father, he never spoke out of line to his mother, and to Loki he always made sure to warn him of his moods and protect him against all others. That their father would not forgive – that Loki could not ask for forgiveness – was merely an act of stubborn men determined to hold onto what control they had.

Odin stood on the outside of the cell and looked in, whilst Thor kept a respectful distance at the side of their father. It was an awkward feeling. He wanted to speak freely as a member of the family, between equals, but this was not a familial meeting and nor was it casual. He was here merely as an observer, for their king – not their father – required a meeting with a prisoner. So there it was that their father stood, in full armour and regal as ever. The golden eye-patch stood out in perfect contrast with Odin's grey locks, and the metallic armour gave shape to his aging body that made it seem as if youth had never left him.

"You always have a choice, Loki Laufeyson," Odin said calmly. "You can stand and listen to me like the prince you once were, or you can ask me to leave and I shall leave at your request. You only have to say the word."

"There is a catch, surely?"

"_I _am not the one for trickery. I am a man of my word. If you wish me to leave, I shall do so. It is up to you to make the choice, as you have made each and every choice that has led you to this point, to this moment in time, and for you alone to decide if the choice you make is one that is right for you. I will warn you to choose wisely. If you are as intelligent, as my wife and son seem to believe, then you shall do so. There shall be no chance to change your mind."

"I will listen to you, Allfather," Loki said as he narrowed his gaze. "I can not deny that I am without my doubts, nor can I deny that I find it suspicious you would bring Thor with you for a mere 'chat', but I will listen. What else _can _I do?"

"Good. There is much to be said."

Odin gave a subtle smile that spoke of softer times. The corner of his eye crinkled just slightly and the lines of age seemed to soften with the movement of his smile, but yet there was something dangerous and dark behind that gaze. It put Thor on edge. He knew that his father still held affection for Loki, because – despite all that his brother had done – there could be no erasing so many years of love and kinship, but he also knew that his brother no longer came first. This was a political visit.

Thor did his best to bite his tongue and lowered his head a miniscule amount, because he knew the value of keeping silence before their father. He had much to say, but he had already spoken at great length to Odin and he would have chance a plenty to talk to Loki once the conversation was at an end. That did not change the fact that he worried about the talk to come. He could see the internal struggle his brother faced evident upon his pale features, as his head turned slightly to one side and his eyebrows knitted together in an expression of confused scepticism, and meanwhile his bare hands clenched at the sides of his rough, green tunic. The wall of glass between them kept the distance physical as well as emotional.

"Do you know, Loki, what I felt when I first held you?"

"Pity? Disgust?" Loki shook his head with a wry smile. "Did you feel amusement at having a new toy to play with? Perhaps you felt relieved at having found a symbol for your political agenda? Why don't you tell me what you felt? Tell me about how _useful _I was for something so _inhuman_."

"Do not presume to know our father's feelings!" Thor shouted in fury. "If that was all you were then our parents would not have grieved as they did! Mother was inconsolable and it was father who sent me to find you once we learned you lived!"

"_Enough_!"

Odin slammed his staff hard on the floor. The noise was deafening. It caused Thor to raise his hands to his ears in an attempt to soften the pain in his eardrums, and Loki winced visibly from within his cell as he glared harshly at his blond brother. The glass seemed to block some of the sound, which was as well for the youngest man, but it did not do anything to hide the fire in Odin's eyes or the hardening of his lips into a bitter and straight line. The fury was obvious, but so to was the soft film of water to the one remaining eye. Could it be possible to feel both anger and sadness in but one heartbeat? Thor wanted nothing more than to scream at Loki for his disrespect and his inability to see the truth, but he drew in a deep breath and held his tongue.

"There will be no arguing," Odin commanded. "I will have silence."

"Yes, Father," Thor conceded.

"I shall tell you both what I felt. I will also remind you that one of you agreed to listen to me, whilst the other agreed to remain silent and merely observe. If either of you stoops to antagonise the other, I shall postpone this talk for a later date."

The two men were silenced at once. It was almost like the days of old, when they were a true family without the security of guards or the boundary of a prison wall to hold them apart. The silence in the room was poignant, with only a slight breeze blowing down the corridor and the sound of Thor's heavy breathing echoing about the walls, and meanwhile Loki seemed to shake just slightly and found it difficult to look their father in his face. It seemed so bare in Loki's cell. It emphasised his features and made him seem all the more vulnerable and broken.

"You do not know what love is until you have a child," Odin said in a slow and patient tone with a sad smile. "You spend so many months waiting for a new life to come into being, building a dream inside your head and picturing what form that life with take, until you dream up a perfect dream. Then comes the pain of birth. In a brief moment you wonder if the screams of pain from your wife are worth any child you have yet to meet, but once that baby is in your arms . . . you realise they were.

"Every ounce of pain, every mistake, every ill fortune was worth it, because each one brought me closer to my son. I will say now that the dream was a ridiculous fancy. There is no dream in this world or beyond that can ever represent the true perfection of holding your son for the first time, the feeling not just of love, but being _in _love, because you do not love your children . . . you fall in love with them. You swear to dedicate your life to making theirs perfect. You would change the world for them, because the world is theirs and theirs alone. Your life ceases to be yours. You live solely for them. They _are _your world.

"You may not have been borne by the woman that you call your mother, but I always considered you my son. I felt those same feelings for you as I did for Thor the moment that I held you in my arms. I looked at you and saw a beauty I had never before seen, I saw you cease to cry and begin to laugh, and I knew that I could protect you in a way that your father would not. I knew that I could be your father.

"My love was born for you instantly."

There came a sudden silence.

It was almost as if each man was lost within his own thoughts. Thor knew how difficult it had been for their father to speak so openly and honestly, to confess his feelings when he held such a strong belief in stoicism before others, but this was a matter that called for candour. That did not stop the awkward silence that befell them, nor did it stop the guilt in Thor's heart. He had always loved his father, but if he had known how loved he had been in return then he would never have invaded Jotunheim so recklessly over a year ago.

Thor looked down to his father and saw that the older man had changed his expression. In the darkened hallway, in the golden glow from the glass walls of the cells, and with the stark whiteness that exuded from within the cells themselves, he seemed to age considerably. He appeared not as a king, but as an elderly father addressing a young child. There was softness to his eyes that denoted affection and nostalgia, but also a hardness to his features that depicted a great pain and sense of betrayal. He was a man who grieved for a son he had felt he lost. It was true that there could be no arguing that the Loki before them was the same man he had always been, or even that Loki himself sought for forgiveness even if he did not ask for it, because to Odin the man that had been his son was dead. Loki was dead to him.

It was merely a shame that Loki did not feel the same way. He still craved and longed for approval, but it seemed that the revelation that the one thing he desired – the one thing he needed – had been his all along . . . it was clear that Loki hated himself for having thrown away, however unwillingly, the one thing he had wanted all his life. His hands shook by his side and Thor could see him swallow back his emotions. It seemed, for a long moment, that he had to wait for his lips to stop shaking and his eyes to stop watering, because to speak otherwise would lead him to tears.

"An impressive story," Loki said in a broken voice. "Did you merely tell me what you _knew _I would want to hear just to manipulate me emotionally? Are you really going to ignore the part where you used me for a pawn in your political game?"

"You twist my words? You paint me to be a villain?"

Loki smashed his hand hard upon the glass. It was a violent gesture, one borne of frustration and regret, but for one awful moment in time Thor feared his brother may somehow smash the glass and cause great injury to himself. The glass merely glowed an intense shade of gold and forced back Loki's arm, almost like a great and physical blow to the side of his person, but it did not have much of an effect upon the younger man. His hands shook so greatly that it was clear he was holding in great pain.

"Aren't you? The _moment _where I acted other than the perfect son_, _you _disowned _me! Is it not enough that I was some runt of a litter, something so disgusting and pathetic that even a _monster_ could not love me, but you – _you _– claim to love me and yet _lie _to me all of my life . . . was it better to love the illusion of an Asgardian son than the truth of a monster?" Loki's eyes began to water. "I tried. I tried to win your approval, but I failed and I lost everything. I just wanted your love."

"You always had my love. I still love you, even now, but you are no son of mine! I can not – nor will not – ever condone your actions or acknowledge you as an Asgardian when you acted as a disgrace."

"You claim to love me? You wanted to _kill _me! You wanted my execution!"

"Your actions have brought us all closer to Ragnarök!

Odin pointed his staff directly at Loki. The fury on his face was plain for Thor to see. There could be no mistaking the red flush to his cheeks, or the venomous narrowing to his gaze, or even the way his voice was so strained with his scream that it broke upon the final word. He took several steps towards Loki's cell, and slammed the staff down hard upon the floor. He had very rarely ever laid a hand upon his children, but Thor thought – in that instant – that Odin would have if he could.

It was difficult for Thor to remain silent, but he had sworn to be a man of honour and a man of his word, but above all else he had promised himself and his people to be a good king when the time came. He had learned a great deal from Jane and the people on 'Earth', so he could not deny the value in his father's use of exile upon him, but Thor felt as if he owed a duty to his family as much as he owed to his people. Loki was an Asgardian. He had been raised by them and taught by them, and if he had believed himself unloved then it was because they had allowed him to feel unloved, the fault had surely been with them. Thor could not believe the worst in his brother.

Loki looked to Thor in what seemed like desperation. He seemed to be pleading with his eyes, looking for some emotional support, just like all those times when he would sit by Thor's side and keep him company during his weaker moments, or those times when he would speak up in Thor's defence towards their father. Thor could only look back and open his mouth to apologise, before closing it with a pained expression of his own. He hated that he could not be there for his brother, but he could not defy his father either, not after everything that had happened.

Loki gave a weak smile. It was as if he had all his worst fears confirmed, as if he felt abandoned by one of the only two people left in his life. It was a look that tore Thor's heart in two and made him wonder how his father could bear making such decisions, because how could he bear to turn his back on his youngest son, even if he knew such a decision to be best for their country? It felt as if the path to being a good leader was paved with sacrifice, but to sacrifice one's own _brother -_?

"You destroyed the Bifrost," Odin said calmly.

"I know," Loki said through tears. "I apologised over and over for my attempted destruction of Jotunheim, for letting go of Thor's hand, and for what happened on Earth . . . I had no choice. They would have _tortured _me, Father! The sceptre, it magnified –"

"Silence, Loki!"

To his credit, he fell silent for one moment. It did not do anything to change the tears that fell from his green eyes, nor did it do anything to change the look of sheer pain and horror that passed across his features. Loki had spent a lifetime believing himself to be in Thor's shadow . . . to be told to be silent now, when he needed to be heard most of all . . . Thor felt responsible for it. How many times had Loki mastered a new spell only for Thor to steal attention with tales of his latest exploits? It hadn't been that no one had cared for Loki's achievements, only that Thor had been louder and more demanding. Thor wished that he had only listened more.

"Why should I be silenced?" Loki screamed. "You said that the boy you knew is dead, that I am nothing more than a _creature_, and you were right. I know that I am nothing, but I have never stopped wanting to be more than that . . . you always loved Thor so much more than me, but now I know why. I was not standing in Thor's shadow; I _was _his shadow. If you would just tell me -! How -? How do I become worthy of your love?"

"You childish, selfish, _arrogant _man! Do you think yourself special? Do you think yourself to be so far different from the rest of your race that you are no longer one of them or even one of us? This level of self-hatred is nothing but narcissism at it's finest! You are so _desperate _to be 'special' that you would be willing to count yourself as a monster just to hold onto the idea that you are somehow different, that you are somehow not like anyone else! Well, _Loki Laufeyson, _I will tell you now that you are not special. You are not unique. You are a Jotun raised as an Asgardian. You are just like everyone else and the rules do not exclude you!"

"So I am nothing to you?"

"No, you were _everything _to me. Do you really think that being equal to your brothers, to your people, somehow makes you worthless? Would you rather be worthless than loved, simply because it gets you attention and makes you feel unusual and special? I have always treated you exactly like Tyr and Thor! I _exiled _Thor for his stubbornness and egotistical arrogance, and I would have sent him to his execution too if he had acted as you had! I would have disowned him, too! My love for you both was equal, but not now. Now my youngest son is dead. You killed him."

"So why did you come here? Will you no longer stay the execution?"

"We have come to the crux of the matter . . ."

Odin took a few steps back.

It would be better if they had a chair to sit upon, something for Odin to talk at length with comfort and ease, but the corridor was bare and the only seats were those inside Loki's cell. Odin – ruler of Asgard – could not afford to be left alone in a cell with a convicted criminal, but neither did it seem right to allow such a man to stand when he was in less than the best of health and so worthy of high respect. Odin did not seem to let it affect him though. He stood dignified.

There could be no feeling other than admiration for their father, but when Thor looked to Loki – cheeks wet with tears, face pale with fear – he could not help but feel that the treatment of his brother was far from fair. He wanted, like their mother, for the release of Loki, because with that release they could perhaps work on building Loki's self-esteem and working through the issues that brought him to the actions he had committed. It would then be possible for Loki to even make amends, something that he could not do trapped in a cell. If only Loki could bring himself to apologise to their father, to just ask for forgiveness outright and promise to change . . .

"There is a division in our kingdom," Odin explained, "as to what to do with you."

"Surely that decision has been made? I am imprisoned."

"Therein lies the dilemma," Odin admitted with a sharp tone. "There are those – like my wife and my son – who wish for you to be released. They argue that you are an Asgardian as true as any other, that as you were raised practically from birth as one of our kind that this _makes _you one of our kind, and as such they claim that any fault of character is one that you had learned from those who raised you. It is the classic debate of nature versus nurture, but with a political spin.

"They see me as unjust for having disowned you. There are a few who see your actions against Jotunheim as a valid pre-emptive strike against a race who we have existed in a state of cold war for many years, but others who see your actions as one of an emotionally ill individual who needs great care and consideration. Neither of these groups condones your actions in Midgard, but both assert that you acted solely out of necessity and self-preservation. They say that you would have been killed were you not to obey and that your emotions were amplified by the sceptre, because of this you should be treated as more a victim than a culprit."

"What do their opinions matter?" Loki asked coldly. "We are past the point of pretending, Allfather. You cannot release me. I broke far too many laws and destroyed all concepts of morality, and besides . . . you disowned me. You could not accept me back into your family without losing all face. They would doubt you and your authority and see you as a fickle ruler."

"Our father is not fickle!" Thor shouted.

Odin let out a sound between a snarl and a scream. It was enough to silence Thor and caused him to instinctively pull back and close his mouth, as he forced himself to stand straight again and keep his temper under control. He knew that to antagonise his brother would delay proceedings, which would only cause his brother more undue suffering and continue to disrupt their kingdom. He clenched his fists hard and drew in a sharp intake of breath, whilst Odin glared darkly at him and commanded him silently to keep quiet and act as the mature man that he claimed to be. Thor had to learn not to let insults rile him. It had been the cause for battle in Jotunheim, the cause for them losing Loki for an entire year, and – if he were not careful – cause for Loki to refuse to listen and entertain their father's idea.

"There are also those who loathe you," Odin said coldly. "They say that your action against the Jotun race was an act of genocide, that you killed innocent women and children in your personal vendetta, and that you did this in full knowledge of what you did. You even threatened a war between the survivors and ourselves, which is entirely possible, for they _will _seek for vengeance. They say that the sceptre may have magnified your emotions, but that those emotions were always there from the start and that they perhaps always will be. Some argue that you are a Jotun: nothing more.

"They say that I am acting merely out of emotion and have selfishly spared you merely as I identify as your father, which – as we both know – is a lie. I cannot blame them. I did act out of self-serving reasons, because it was my wife and son that begged for your life to be spared, and it was my love for them that prevented me from causing them emotional pain. I saved you to save them. I was wrong. My people are right that I must abide to my duty as king first and foremost, that I cannot turn the other cheek when a great crime has been committed, and as such I should have punished you in the manner I would have punished any other person. Your imprisonment was merely an act of my foolish sentimentality and desire to protect those closest to me. There is only one other acceptable solution . . ."

Odin seemed reluctant to make eye contact at this point. He cast his gaze down, just for a brief moment, and then looked up again with a slightly steelier sight. It was almost intimidating to see, because for Odin this was evidently as much a difficult decision as it had been for Thor and for Frigga, but this would save Loki's life and restore some order to their land, as well as possibly prevent a war with the Jotun race. It was not a choice that Odin would choose, but _duty _to his people forced him to.

There was an awkward silence as Thor resisted from speaking. He could see the colour drain from Loki's face as their father admitted imprisonment had been a foolish decision, because – knowing that half of their race wished for his death – there could be no other option in Loki's mind than to be sent to his death. He could not simply be released. There would be no just reason for doing so, but there would also be no way of keeping check on his person or guaranteeing no repeat of his previous actions. Loki wept silently, his facial expressions stoic despite his tears, and he seemed every bit as regal as a true prince. He had seemed to accept his fate, even if he knew not truly what his fate was to be.

They remained quiet for a moment, because there was nothing else left to say. Loki seemed to wish to speak, desperate to plead his case, but every time he opened his mouth his silver-tongue failed him and he closed his mouth in a loss for words. He raised a shaking hand to his lips to hide his emotion and wiped away some falling tears, and there was no doubt in Thor's mind that his brother was mentally listing all the reasons that he would give to convince their father to allow him to live. He did not fear death, but nor did he did not _want _to die when the choice to do so was not his.

"So I am to be executed, after all?" Loki said.

"On the contrary," Odin replied coldly. "You will dry your tears. I said that there had been one other option to execution and imprisonment, but it was one I had been reluctant to consider. It is an old solution that has fallen into disuse."

"What? What else can there be but my death?"

Odin drew in a deep breath and seemed to take this moment to compose himself. This had not been his choice, but rather a choice he had been forced to take, for it was the only way to spare the life of Loki and to appease all sides. Thor could see the internal conflict written across his father's features, the feeling that he was sacrificing too much and yet to choose otherwise would only be a sacrifice of another sort, and yet he was grateful to his father for having made a decision that respected his mother's and his own wishes. He could have executed Loki, but he didn't.

"There will be a political union."

Loki seemed to freeze in that instant. Thor imagined that the feeling they felt was shared between them, with their blood running cold and a freezing sweat breaking upon their skin, and at that moment Thor's mouth ran dry. He felt filled with horribly conflicting emotions. There was that violent part of his soul that wished to lash out and scream at their father, but another part that felt as if he may cry at the grief of what was to come . . . this had not been an easy choice at all.

Thor stayed silent as Loki gave him a knowing look. It forced the older man to look away as he could not bear it, but he was aware that a dark realisation had dawned upon his brother and that he was seeing the world in a new light. Loki took a step back and cast his eyes between Odin and Thor. He may have walked away in disgust if he had anywhere to run to, and the way he angled his body suggested this clearly due to the way he seemed resistant to the idea of facing them head-on. He no longer seemed pained, but angry. It was a justified response, but to see him caught between two extreme emotions only reminded Thor of the battles between the two brothers. Loki seemed to want to scream and cry at once. Thor admired the way that he somehow managed to stay calm and the way he spoke softly.

"Between _whom_?" Loki asked.

"Yourself and Thor."

"You are joking? You can _not_ be serious."

Odin – for the first time ever – broke eye contact with Loki. He gazed down at the floor beneath their feet and drew in a deep breath, before he looked up with resignation and complete calmness. It was the look of a man that had exhausted all other options, the look of a man who sought only to find a solution that would appease all sides and prevent war, but one that Odin personally disliked. He considered it only out of duty to his people and to his family.

"It would be strictly a marriage of political convenience," Odin explained. "There would be no expectation for you to consummate the marriage, although there may be a social expectation to do so. You would not have to worry about being forced or pressured into such acts."

"Should I then not worry about the need for an _heir_?"

"If it came to that then your race, shape-shifting ability and magic would all combine to make you perfectly eligible to carry a child, but I shall be honest with you, Loki Laufeyson. It is my belief that the political climate shall stabilise between Asgard and Jotunheim, and that our people shall come to accept you once you prove yourself, and so I expect an annulment of the marriage before the issue of an heir shall arise."

"He is my _brother _-!"

"Thor is no such thing! There is no blood between you! There is no relationship whatsoever! Loki Odinson is dead, the man that stands before me now is Loki Laufeyson and _he _will consider this as a high honour indeed for a mere prisoner!"

"And how would this benefit anyone? _How_?"

It was a question that had plagued Thor at first, too. His father had sought to placate their desperate mother by freeing her son, but also to calm a nation and make sure that Loki was not merely 'freed' without paying his dues first, which had led to a highly difficult situation. There had been very little solutions to his problem, or at least ones that would not antagonise at least one group of people, but this had been a solution that seemed to offer a possible answer to all their people and those of Jotunheim.

Odin appeared as tense as Thor felt, clearly furious that this was their only option left and more so that Loki would show ingratitude at such an offer, because this was not an offer that would have been made were it not for outside pressures. Frigga would regard Loki as nothing else but a son, she wanted him back in her life and free to live his life to its fullest, and every second he spent imprisoned was a moment longer that her heart broke and her tears fell. She – with Thor – had begged for Loki to be released, but Odin had not allowed it. He could not be seen to go back on his word, but – more than that – Thor knew that his father would never change his mind about Loki's status and disownment. To so much as suggest anything other than imprisonment or execution was a _great _sacrifice on Odin's part.

"This is the only option," Odin stated calmly. "You would be able to be a part of my family without actually being family to me. This would bring great happiness to my wife and to my son, both who wish for you to return to their lives. It would appease those of my people who wish for you to be freed, but your marital tie to Thor and restricted movements about the lands would conciliate those who wish for you to remain imprisoned or executed.

"Thor will watch your every movement and be responsible for your actions, whilst the guards will take you to and from any place that you have authorization to enter. You will not be allowed out of the palace grounds and you will be completely forbidden from travel between realms. If and when you are needed in another realm, we will consider appropriate action to allow for it, but such an event would be extremely unlikely. You may spend your free time making amends for your heinous actions.

"Your marriage to Thor shall hopefully pacify the Jotun race. This will appear like imprisonment and a loss of honour to those of your race that wish you dead for your actions, but a political union between the Jotun and Asgardians may prove beneficial. It would provide a link between our two realms. This was the best action I could find to satisfying the Jotun race. Those who hate you will see you 'imprisoned', whereas those who respect you as one of their own will see you as accepted by _our_ own. I will be honest with you: they may find a pretext for war regardless. They will likely find fault regardless of whether we imprison you, execute you, or marry you into our fold. You may find yourself proving your loyalty to us on the battlefield."

"War could be years away," Loki said in disbelief. "They will need time to collect themselves, to rebuild and prepare for an attack. Their numbers are low. If I am to be _married _incestuously for longer than a year, simply as a deterrent for an inevitable war, then the people will expect more if they are to believe the marriage as anything less than a farce. Is your plan to annul once the war is over? It may be too late then."

"I assure you that the issue of an heir should not arise."

"Then you believe war will come soon?" Loki shook his head with a sad smile. "What of my brother . . . I am sorry, I mean my _fiancé . . . _did he agree to this? Did you not consider what that pathetic bint of his might think of this?"

"Do not insult Jane!" Thor screamed.

He made to storm forward, but found his father's hand outstretched to block him. In all honesty he was not sure what he would have done, being that Loki was still safely trapped within his cell and Thor was trapped without, but the fury of having the one person in his life that he loved most of all _insulted _was too much to bear. He felt the muscles in his arms tense to breaking point as he glared daggers at Loki, who merely gave a sad and angry smile back at him. The black-haired man shook his head in disbelief, but he was not the one with right to show disdain! How could they find harmony if Loki could not even respect Thor or those closest to him? Thor growled loudly and locked eyes with his brother.

Loki threw up his hands as if in defeat, as he sent an indecipherable look to Thor. He turned several times on his feet, caught between running and standing his ground, whereas Thor had to use all his strength not to lash out as he took an angry step back. It was a long few moments before his father lowered his hand, removing the block towards the cell, but Thor still desired nothing more than to strike out. He stood still and breathed deep. Loki, meanwhile, pointed harshly to Odin and spoke coldly.

"Will the great Allfather truly part two destined lovers?"

"You would do well to ask such questions directly to Thor. If you agree to this then you will be required to spend much time together, both socially and at official events. I will have nothing more to do with you after this meeting. I will be your king and your father-in-law, nothing more."

"Very well, Allfather. _Thor_, what have you to say about this? Pray tell."

The sarcasm positively dripped from every word that Loki uttered. He clearly expected for his brother to refuse the entire thing, but at the same time he likely suspected that this issue would not have been brought up unless Odin had been entirely certain it could be implemented without hassle. Thor would also have objected before now if this had been his first time hearing such words. Loki looked darkly at Thor, his green eyes narrowed and his head lowered so as to cast his face into shadow. Thor did not know what to say. He was angry, he was hurt, but so too was his brother. He did the only thing that he could: he answered honestly.

"I will one day be king, Loki," Thor said in a broken voice. "I promised our father that I would put duty before love, that I would put the lives of the many before the lives of the few, and this is a choice that will benefit all our people."

"You could have refused! War is inevitable! The Jotun filth will attack us the very moment that they gather their forces and pool their resources, and in that moment this will have all been for nought! This will benefit me greatly. I will be free and then when we go to war I can prove my worth and defend our kingdom, but what of you? You would really sacrifice Jane just for my sake?"

"It is not just for your sake! This will unify our people and create a sense of solidarity; they will come together and not argue as to whether your punishment was just or inhumane! I am not like our father yet; I cannot ignore the pain of those that I love! If I can save both my brother _and _our people, then I shall!"

"I am not your brother though, am I?"

"You will always be my brother and my closest friend. Father has shown great mercy in allowing you to live. I had begged him so many times for your release, how could I refuse him? I have made my decision to protect you and our people."

"And am I to have a choice?"

Loki walked to the glass of the cell. It was a quick-paced and steady movement, one that spoke of power and control, but it was only when he came close to the glass – his face but inches from it – that he showed his true frustration. He clenched his fist and smashed it against the glass. His face was one that spoke of clear anger, which was completely understandable. Loki had all his control taken from him. He was a man who needed to prove himself, a man who needed validation, and now he had no power whatsoever over his circumstances or his life. It was as if his every worst fear had been confirmed, or – worse – as if he had _become_ the thing he feared.

Thor looked to his father coldly, as he fought back the urge to storm up to the glass and put Loki in his place. It was the disrespect against their father that frustrated him most of all. Odin was a good man, a man that put the needs of others before his own, and that was clear in the way he had offered this alternative solution to them, even when he wished more than anything to forget Loki's very existence. Odin saw his son's distaste and raised a hand to silence him.

The older man stepped forward and looked Loki in the eyes. It was strange to see two men – that at been at loggerheads since so early into one's childhood – looking at each other with a sort of mutual respect, as if they understood the other and wished to speak to the other as an equal. Loki lowered his fist and nodded slowly to Odin. Odin in turn gave a weak smile and turned slightly to his side, he lifted his arm and signalled to Thor and drew attention to his eldest son. It was a gesture that spoke of acceptance for Thor and the desire for Loki to look to Thor rather than anyone else. It was the gesture of a king.

"You have had nothing but choices," Odin snapped coldly. "You have but one choice left: my son or imprisonment. I will give you forty-eight hours. You will marry Thor and create a political union that will foster good relations with the Jotun and pacify our people, or you will rot in this cell until the day of Ragnarök! I could not care less, Loki Laufeyson. The decision is yours. I pray that you will choose well."

"Father," Loki begged, "please just –"

"_I am not your father_. Come, Thor, we shall leave."

Odin turned around with an elegant sweep. It seemed that the guards must have been listening, or perhaps waiting for a visual sign, because no sooner had Odin turned did the previous three guards return to provide escort to their king. It felt as if the atmosphere in the dungeons changed in that moment, as if electricity ran through the air and as if no one dared to speak. It was an awkward silence, indeed.

Thor stood still as he watched his father leave. The older man moved with great and powerful strides, he moved like a king and a warrior, and as Thor watched him – seeing in his father the pride and eloquence of Loki – he wondered if he would one day grow into a king like him. He wanted to become like his father, but a better version of his father. He knew the value of duty, but he also knew the duty to which he owed his family and loved ones, and he knew the importance that any decision would have on both . . . his father had taught him that. His father had taught him so much, but there he went and there he walked out of Loki's life. Thor could not turn his back on Loki, no matter what he had done.

"Thor, please," Loki pleaded, "you can not think this a wise choice, surely?"

"I had two days to think it through, Brother, like you," Thor admitted. "We could think of no other way to save you and our realm. If this is a foolish choice, it is a choice I would make a thousand times over to save you from this fate worse than death. It is my duty to you to keep you safe."

"Then what is _my _duty?"

The look of frustration in Loki's eyes was almost pitiable. He seemed to be searching for answers that could not be given, which was understandable when every ounce of control he had now had now been taken from him, and even for a graceful loser and a man of great honour this was no easy feat to bear. Loki could accept defeat, he could accept being a prisoner, but to Loki this amounted to slavery. He had been given a choice that he had no choice _but _to accept. He would forever spend his life in chains and imprisoned, even if those chains could not be seen and those cells were lavish and beautiful. He would live second best to Thor. His worst nightmares would come to life. He would finally be nothing, regardless of what he chose . . .

"Your duty is to make amends," Thor said with a sad smile. "To do that you must live freely. You may not think this much of a choice, Brother, but I see it as a great opportunity. By my side you can prove your worth, but alone in this cell you would be forgotten as a man and remembered as a monster. Your duty is to choose well."

"When did you become so wise, Thor?"

Thor looked back to the open doors where his father had left, then looked towards Loki and saw the sad smile on his brother's features. He had learned from both men. He had learned about himself in the process, about what it meant to be a good king from Odin and to be a good man from Loki, and he had learned from both what mistakes to avoid. He gave a half-mocking and half-sincere salute to Loki and began to walk away, whilst smiling to himself in the process.

"Forty-eight hours, Loki. Choose well!"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Thank you very much to _LadyFlowers _and _LadyArn _for your reviews :)

Is anyone else excited about Wednesday? I'll definitely be the first one into the cinema to see the new _Thor: The Dark World _film :) I admit to being rather excited.

**Chapter Three**

Loki flexed his left hand.

The pain that shot through his arm was sharp and not entirely unpleasant. It began as an irritating and uncomfortable burning sensation in his knuckles, before it radiated a dull ache along his fingers and arm, and then – finally – he felt an odd vice-like sensation upon his wrist. To many it would have been a fearsome wound, with blood still speckled across the pale skin, but to Loki is was merely a reminder of the fact that he was alive. He was alive and he could have purpose yet.

It simply did not help that the handcuffs upon his wrists were so confining and restricting, because without the free movements of his hands the wound became stiff and the pain increased. In a way he could understand the security placed upon him. He would be nothing but a prisoner until the day of the marriage, and even then he would merely be moving from one form of imprisonment into another, but to be forced into handcuffs felt almost as insulting as the muzzle had been. They were rigid and unyielding, thick enough to encompass the entire wrist from the tips of his golden armbands to partway of his hand, and they were chained to a collar on his neck, a chain that matched in style to the collar and cuffs.

His only consolation was that the collar was padded inside, so as not to cut his throat, but the metal was so heavy that it forced him to use great strength just to hold his head high, and high he held it. They wanted to break his spirit. They wanted the world to see him chained like an animal, surrounded by guards both behind and in front, and they wanted him to feel as if what little control he had over his life had been stolen away, but it hadn't. No. Loki would always have some control, even if it were simply over his own thoughts and ability to stand proud.

The only benefit to this situation was that he was finally able to see outside his cell. There had been no beauty in the dungeons, but to walk the hallways of the palace presented him with a beauty that he had long since forgotten . . . tall windows showed a stunning panoramic view of their realm, whilst the golden decorations seemed to radiate with a light of their own, and meanwhile statues of Thor's ancestors lined the corridors with an admirable elegance.

It felt good to walk those halls again. It felt good to have his long, black hair combed and slicked back out of his way, just the way it felt good to be able to stamp his identity loud and clear with his attire. The gold-accented, green coat felt heavy and warm upon his body, the black tunic-style top was form-fitting and comfortable to say the least, and all that he lacked from his former self were the weapons he once harnessed. There would be no daggers hidden on his person. There would be no sceptre or staff within his reach. Even a restriction upon his magic had been put into place, blocking him from certain spells and certain circumstances . . . so many 'chains' for one supposedly insignificant man.

"Loki," came a cold voice.

_Ah, so one of the guards had missed a vital spot-check . . . _

Loki laughed as he felt the cold press of metal on his skin. It seemed that tensions were running high and that feelings were still dark towards him, but it was reassuring to know that blades were still sharpened and skills were still practised, even without him. It seemed that perhaps they were not fools after all. The edge of the blade felt icy against his skin, rather like a bleeding wound, but soon the feeling warmed and he turned his head with a smile to look at his attacker.

"Lady Sif, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I see you agreed to the impending marriage." Sif kept her sword straight and steady. "You seem to be rather content for a man who will soon be signing his life away to another. Do you know something that I do not?"

"A great deal of things, I'm sure."

He narrowed his eyes slightly as his smile grew, and even though the chain forbade him from turning his head as he liked, he was still able to crane it just enough to give her a disturbingly dark gaze. He looked at her without moving his body. He confronted her without raising his hands. It was safe to say that she had never been one of his favourite people, one of those many love-struck women who fawned over Thor and rejected Loki within the same breath. She thought herself above him.

This was the same woman that had thought his magic to be nothing more than 'trickery', even when it saved her life, and the same woman who thought Thor to be the true hero of the hour even when Loki's skills helped his brother to escape. She resented Loki for what he was. He had been an obstacle to Thor, whom she had never truly hidden her feelings for if one was observant enough to notice, and whilst Loki whispered into his brother's ear she had only ever been able to watch from the distance, wishing that it had been her that he would listen to. Loki would gladly admit Sif would have been a better confidante, if given the chance.

"Would you kindly remove your sword? _Please_."

Sif had very little choice. The guards surrounding Loki had their weapons raised and aimed directly at her with great accuracy, and for good reason: this was a direct threat against their future king consort. They likely no more wanted to defend Loki than Sif wanted to withdraw her weapon, but they had been raised with a great respect for royalty and a dedication to duty that could rival their king. Sif lowered her weapon. They – in return – lowered theirs.

"The Allfather should have executed you when he had the chance," Sif spat.

"Yes, I do believe that you may be right, however it seems to me that the problem is that you judge the monarch too much by the man. The Allfather is not infallible. He allowed me to live to save his queen's heart, an admirable decision for the average man, but to allow a war criminal and traitor to live? For a king, it is unthinkable. Tell me, what king is it that can be both a good ruler _and_ a good man?"

"Thor."

"Interesting that you would think so," Loki said.

His smile was sarcastic and bitter. He kept his hands as low as the chain would allow, but they were still raised to his chest and he could move them no further without compromising his head movements. It was hard to keep his green eyes from forming a glare, because with every breath he could feel the anger of indignation sore from within. It seemed that Thor's supporters were naïve, refusing to see what both Odin and Loki had seen so long ago, and that no one understood the sacrifices that a king must make, and no one seemed to think that Loki cared.

He did. It was perhaps the main point of contention between himself and the man that had once been his father, because when two men – two kings – stood tall before one another, they would be forced to contend with one another. 'Compromise' was merely another word for defeat. There was, however, one point that they had once agreed upon: Thor was useful merely as a figurehead. He was the one to inspire and lead, the one to give rousing speeches and stand as an example, but he had no understanding of politics and practicalities. Yes, Loki would gladly condemn their father's foolish choice in letting him live, but at least his condemnation showed a deeper understanding rather than a blind loyalty. He would never expect them to understand that. He would always be the villain to them.

Sif took a step back. She regarded Loki as one might a dangerous animal, and in that look she conveyed more emotion and intent that any words could ever express. She stood slightly turned and on edge, as if she were preparing to pounce for an attack, and as she did so Loki noticed that she had worn her armour for this little surprise visit. The silver breastplate and armlets glittered in the light, whilst the red of her long gloves and attire complemented her rather beautifully, and in such armour and boots she did not stand like a man, but _equal_ to a man.

"I do not trust you," she said.

"Then trust in Heimdall," Loki replied. "He watches my every movement, although when my magic is at full-power I am sure that shall pose more of a problem. I wonder . . . is it me that you distrust or Thor's future spouse?"

"What do you mean by that, Loki?"

"Nothing at all. I simply wonder if you treat Lady Jane the same way as you do me."

"Lady Jane has done nothing to earn my distrust. _You _on the other hand . . ."

Sif walked out from the shadows and came before the guards. There were two guards in front of Loki to either side, with three behind him in a triangular formation, and Sif – centre of attention – stood directly before Loki with an almost arrogant expression. She stood blocking the way to what once would have been Loki's rooms, and as such he couldn't help but feel rather frustrated to be blocked to the to what little sanctuary he had. It was just typical of a woman and one of Thor's followers. He waited for her to speak in the hopes that once she had said her piece she would leave him alone.

Her hand upon her sword hilt tightened, whilst her eyes focused considerably upon Loki's schooled and slightly conceited expression. It was unusual to see her without Thor or the Warriors Three by her side, clearly she had broken rules and protocol to lie in wait for Loki's transfer from the dungeons to his private quarters, and there she stood as if trying to find the words to address the one person that had nearly destroyed the person she loved most of all. When she spoke her voice was low and hard.

"You tried to kill Thor."

"Did I? Oh, I don't think so," Loki replied with rather devilish grin. "If I remember right, my attentions were elsewhere. It was _Thor _who practically threw himself in front of my Destroyer. I like to consider it poetic justice. If he felt in that instant even _one thousandth _of what I was forced to feel _my entire life_, then I will consider what occurred a success. I did not mean for Thor to die, but I am glad for what happened."

"You try to paint yourself as a hero?" Sif snapped, as the hand on her hilt twitched. "I know what you said to Thor! You accused him of throwing you to your death, but you were the one to let go! Will you truly claim to have not wished him harm that day?"

"Come now, what's a little spat between two betrothed?"

"Now is not the time for jokes."

Loki did not let his smile drop, but his eyes revealed the true emotion behind his false sincerity. He could not help but feel his blood run cold, or the way that his breath seemed to cease for but a brief moment, and when he looked to Sif he felt an anger that was hard to suppress. There was not much that Loki could claim his own, for even when he had his complete freedom his talents had often been pushed aside in favour of his brother, but his silver-tongue and mischievous humour had always been his and his alone. They were all he had left now. There was little in his life that he had control over, and even less ways that he could express himself, but the verbal sparring and little quips were still his and to be denied those was almost painful.

"What did you intend to do that day?" Sif asked. "Did you intend to kill your brother? You would have abused your position of power to settle a childish grudge? I find it hard to believe you would willingly marry a man that you wished to kill."

"There is nothing 'willing' about this marriage."

"Then why did you agree to marry Thor? He deserves better than you."

"All the more reason for me to agree then," Loki spat bitterly. "I don't see it any business of _yours _why I would agree to marry that foolish man, but – given a choice between relative freedom and absolute imprisonment – I made the choice that any other man would have made in my position. Thor may not be my brother, but I would not agree to this _solely _to spite him. My reasons are my own, however."

"So what are you trying to tell me, Loki?"

Loki held his tongue. There was very little that could be said, because honesty was not an option open to a man like him. It wasn't that he was averse to telling the truth, but simply that when the world painted you to be a liar then even the truth would become a lie to ears blocked with spite, and so whatever he said would be dismissed as nothing but manipulations regardless of how he spoke. He also did not want to allow himself to appear weak before someone like Sif. It was true that she was loyal, strong, and forgiving to a degree, but it was that loyalty that made her a threat.

If he were to marry Thor, to one day become king consort, then he would need to win the respect and trust of their people, something that would not be possible if they were to know his every weakness and doubt his strength. That was the best-case scenario, too. The likelihood would be that Thor's closest allies and companions would distrust him, they would see him as a serpent in the grass waiting to make its move, and so any honesty would reveal to them an emotional vulnerability. They would exploit that. He could not trust them not to use his fears and his sorrows to their advantage, using it to break him further and destroy him completely. It was a tactic that he had used himself in the past, and so it would be a form of justice for them to use it now, although he would not give them the satisfaction.

"Did you mean for Thor to live?" Sif asked. "Are you truly claiming you never meant to kill Thor or myself with your actions? You may be able to excuse your actions whilst under control of the sceptre, but what of before then? Did you mean to kill us?"

"_Thor_? No. _You_? Yes."

"And now?"

There was an awkward silence that followed. Sif appeared to be studying his facial expressions intently and listening carefully to the tone of his voice, almost as if she sought to analyse him and determine the truth to his words. He didn't give her the satisfaction of a sarcastic threat, because any cold words that _could_ be taken as being hostile _would _be considered hostile. Instead he regarded her careful, as he wondered what it was that she wanted to hear and what effect he wanted his words to have upon her, but in the end he settled for a subtle form of honesty that could neither hurt his new position as a 'free' man or give her ammunition against him.

"I think your murder may just harm my case," Loki said dryly.

Loki smiled and raised his hands just ever so slightly. It wasn't enough to appear threatening, or even enough to have any real meaning, but it brought her eyes to his handcuffs and collar. She could see the chain that restricted his movements, she could see the damage upon his hand, and she would know that he had not been tamed merely as he had been caged. He was the same boy that had played with Thor, the same young man that had fought alongside the Warriors Three, and the same man that had caused such devastation and despair.

It was strange how nothing could change and how everything could change, both with a single breath. Loki had spent his whole life in Thor's shadow, always feeling worthless and forgotten, and whilst their father praised Thor and treated him like a hero there had always been a _distance _with Loki. He had always assumed that it was because he was weaker, not the warrior or fighter his brother and father were, but then he had learned the truth, that he was further from the Asgardian prince he had thought, instead he had been nothing but an intruder and outsider from the start. It had been a blow unlike any other. He had not expected them to understand, but to believe oneself to be worthless was a very different thing from knowing. He had then been pushed into power, lost his father before having a change to confront him, and then been betrayed by the Warriors Three and Lady Sif before he had a chance to come to terms with all that he had learned.

They blamed him for his actions. They blamed him for having the blood of the Jotun, for being jealous towards Thor, and for manipulating the actions of many in order to present himself in the best light. It felt unfair. He had spent his life always seeking attention and acknowledgement, but only _now_ did they seem to interpret his actions as that of an evil man? He had been mischievous, yes, but he had never been cruel or sadistic in his actions, and he had always put his kingdom and family first, _more _than what Thor had done. If he were a monster, it was only because they had _made_ him one. They had driven him into falling into the abyss . . . into madness . . .

Sif gave a long sigh, distracting Loki from his thoughts. She sheathed her sword and gave Loki a look of almost pity, perhaps seeing in him something that he himself was blind to, and in that darkness inside him she saw perhaps a light on the verge of being extinguished. It was infuriating to be pitied by someone who themselves was pitiable, but he endured it as it seemed that she was finished with him. She turned her back and seemed ready to walk away.

"Very well," Sif said indifferently. "I see there is no reasoning with you."

"You may be right there," Loki snapped. "How is it that someone like _you _canfeel as if they have a right to judge _me_? Listen to me, Lady Sif, when you have spent a lifetime surrounded by those who despise you, when you have erred only to be cast into darkness for your mistake, when you scream so loud that your throat bleeds only for no one to come to your aid, for no one to _hear _you . . . then I shall be _glad _to tell you that your screams are unreasonable."

"I see. You still seek revenge against perceived slights against you. I suppose then that you do not wish for a hen night to complement your betrothed's stag? Here I thought that we were becoming good friends."

"I am afraid that I shall have to decline such an invitation."

Loki gave her a rather cold smile.

It was clear that it would be difficult indeed to win the trust of those closest to Thor, but that was perhaps to be expected and justified on their part. Still, to see Sif walk away from him was both infuriating and something of a relief. He still had so much that he wished to say, but to say it would only antagonise Sif and further her distrust in him, and he wished for silence anyway. The quiet without her words gave him time to reflect and time to take in his surroundings, free from judgement or fear of attack. It was when she found herself at the end of the corridor that she turned to him, and spoke those words that made his hands clench and blood boil:

"_Freedom is life's great lie_."

He jerked his hands hard out of instinct. The collar pulled harshly on his neck, which forced his head down and sent ripples of pain throughout his head and back. It took him a long moment to compose himself, but eventually he drew in a deep breath and returned to standing straight and tall, whilst the guard immediately behind him pressed him forward and commanded him to walk on. He continued onward as if Sif had not disturbed him at all.

The guards led him for what felt like a vast expanse of time, into what eventually became the private quarters of the royal family. Loki smiled as he walked past familiar door after familiar door. He walked past the door to what had once been his parents' rooms, where he would run as a child to hide from bad dreams, only for his mother to escort him back to bed and sing him to sleep. He walked past Thor's rooms, and remembered the times when he would use magic to cruelly wake the older man from a drunken lie-in, which would often cause Thor to chase Loki out from his rooms with a roar. This was the same corridor that Thor and Loki played, fought, and walked together. There was no denying it was far superior to what his cell had been.

He smirked to see a faint scorch-mark upon Thor's door that no amount of paint could fully conceal, and rolled his eyes at the memory of a certain someone's sword accidentally scratching the wall of his rooms in return. It was difficult to comprehend how Odin could so easily forget so many memories. Did he seek to bury the memory of his son so deeply that even the joyous recollections became a poison to his mind? It hurt Loki to know that he could be married as a stranger to someone that he had been raised with since childhood. It was a sharp rejection indeed.

"These will be your rooms for the upcoming week, Loki Laufeyson."

Loki looked at the guard to his right and gave him a sceptical look. It felt a little insulting to be shown to his rooms, the rooms in which he had slept in since he had come of age, and be introduced to them as if he had never set foot in them before. He raised an eyebrow and gave a crooked smile, determined to remain polite and courteous despite the way the guard had spoken the obvious. He nodded as best as the chains would allow and tried not to glare.

"_Thank you_," he said coldly.

"We will release you from your chains." The guard signalled for another to come closer with the keys. "You will remain in these rooms until the day of your wedding. If your presence is required elsewhere in the palace then you will be escorted by the guards stationed at your doors, and if you are required outside of the palace then you shall be placed in chains for your transfer."

"Terrific. I feel at home already."

The guard undid the handcuffs first, which was something of both a relief and a burden to Loki. It was at once reassuring to have his hands free again, to have the movement of his body unrestricted and the ache in his wrists relieved from the loss of such a heavy weight, but the chain upon his neck caused the weight to drop dead from his neck, which caused great pain. The guard seemed apologetic and at once grabbed the cuffs to relieve the strain, before he released the collar.

Loki let out a sound of absolute relief and cricked his neck to both sides. There was a part of him that wondered if he could somehow use what little magic he had left to escape, to run and avoid the marriage to come, but he knew that there was nowhere he could run to and that this was the best option open to him. The political union would provide him with some freedoms and a chance for redemption that his cell would have deprived him of, but to run would only force him back into that dark imprisonment, it would be the end of him completely. He simply had to endure this week and the ceremony to come. If he could abide that, the rest would come easily.

The guards opened the doors to his rooms, which revealed the spacious living-area that he had often spent hours reading and studying within. He had missed the windows that stretched from one wall to another, so high that Loki had to crane his head to see the sky, with such light streaming through that to be inside sometimes felt better than to be without. The doors to both sides led to the bedroom, bathroom, and study, but within the room was everything that he was familiar with and everything that he had ever known. These were his rooms.

It was only when the doors closed he noticed he wasn't alone.

He felt something break inside of him at the sight of her. It was impossible to hold back the slump of his shoulders or the gasp of air that left him, or even to refrain from taking that one shaky step forward towards her person. She looked as beautiful as ever. Her golden hair was spun upwards into an intricate bun, whilst her long locks trailed behind her as she stood up, her body shaking as she did so. It was hard not to admire her rosy skin, or the way the silken blue dress clung to her so well. Loki noticed the breast-armour and metal arm-guards, as well as the sword by her side, but he knew that such precautions would have been forced on her by Odin, because she knew – as much as Loki – that she had nothing to fear from him.

"Loki, my son . . ."

"_Mother_."

Loki took several quick and hasty steps forward, whilst his mother all but ran towards him. He hadn't even realised that he had been crying until she embraced him warmly, her arms wrapped tightly around him as he felt all the tension and pain ease from his soul, and as he held her in return he could feel the tears fall. It was so real. She was real. He had missed this human contact, the ability to ease his loneliness for just one moment in time, and he had missed _this _most of all. His mother had been the only person to show him love in all his life, and just to be able to hold her – to say _thank you _– meant more to him than his very freedom. He didn't want to let go. He couldn't. What if he let go and she left him like Odin had left him?

He felt her hair soft and gentle against his cheek, the scent of honey and perfumes that wafted through his senses so familiar that it was as if he had never left her, and suddenly memories of being carried in her arms came back to him in full force. He remembered the way she read to him as a child, the way her hands would manipulate his as she patiently taught him spell after spell, and the way she would brush her hair softly as Loki told her in excitement about the day he had and the things he had seen. She alone had ever stood by him. She was his mother.

"Hush, Loki. Why are you crying?"

She placed her hands against his chest and pushed him away just slightly. It was painful to Loki to see her face so wet with tears, her cheeks flushed and her lips that trembled with emotion, but to see her smile was enough to reassure him that she did not hate him. She seemed overcome with emotion. Her eyes darted about his face and person, almost as if she could not believe he were real, and then she began to cry in earnest as she raised a handkerchief to wipe her son's face.

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you," she said through her tears. "I was so relieved when I spoke to you, when I found out that you were alive. You do not know what it is like to lose a son. It was as if a part of me had died with you. I had to put on false smiles during feasts, during your wake, and I had to be strong for Thor and for your fa- . . . my husband. It nearly destroyed me. I wept nightly."

"I am so sorry, Mother. I wanted to come back, I did, but –"

"Hush, child, hush. I do not want to hear about the pain you must have felt to fall as you did, because your pain is _my _pain. That you would choose death over the truth of who you were and what that meant . . . I should have done more! I told him from the start that we should have been honest with you. I'm so sorry, Loki. I'm so sorry!"

The tears continued to flow from Loki's eyes. It was difficult to see her through the watery veil and with each breath he swallowed hard the emotions that threatened to break out, and suddenly he was so relieved for the freedom of his limbs, because he could not help but touch her cheeks and her shoulders for reassurance that she was here, that she was finally by his side. He owed his life to her. She had not only raised him, taught him the skills he had needed for survival, but she had been the one to plead to the Allfather for him to live when everyone had been set upon his death. The sheer awe and love he felt for her could not be expressed.

He took her hand and held it tightly in his own, his grip preventing her from wiping away any more tears. The smile on his lips was sincere. He placed a kiss to her fingers and then found himself smiling aimlessly, it was as if he were a child again, because in her presence all the pain he felt seemed a distant memory and in her arms he felt safe and protected from all harm. He could deny everyone that had once been his 'family', but not her. Never her.

"I never thanked you," Loki said sadly.

"What for?"

She let out a shuddered breath and pressed her hand to his cheek. It was a simple touch, one that – in a brief instant – reminded Loki of the times when Thor would take a hold of him to show affection, but her touch was different . . . it was something born of pure motherly love. There was no slightly aggressive tone to it, as if to reassert an idiotic notion of masculinity, nor the inappropriate proximity that Thor tended to also exhibit. It was simple gesture of love and respect. It meant nothing more or less, and yet in that instant it felt more meaningful than all of Thor's gestures combined.

"_For everything_," he confided warmly. "For everything."

They looked at each other for a long while, before Frigga let out a long and heavy breath that neither had realised she had been holding, and then gently took both of Loki's hands in her own. There was so much that he wanted to say to her, so much that he had to apologise for and so much that he wanted to confess, and – most of all – he wanted her advice and her words of wisdom. He wanted to ask her what it meant to be married, what would be expected of him, what she felt of it all . . .

He knew that she would gladly cling to anything that would give Loki a chance for survival, but at the same time . . . she saw Loki as a _son_, she saw Loki and Thor as _brothers . . . _he did not want his mother to see him as someone dirty and disgusting, in a marriage that felt quasi-incestuous, and especially when he was powerless to do anything to prevent it. It was possible that she was willing to overlook such factors, being that there was no blood between them, merely as she loved Loki too much to allow him to rot in a cell, but it was also possible that she saw something he didn't. He felt almost afraid to ask. She was the only person left with love for him, to lose that – even just slightly – would be a blow he could not bear.

"Come," she said gently, "I want to show you what you shall be wearing."

Frigga gently led him across the room to where a long sofa lay. It was adorned with a fur throw that Thor had gifted to Loki one birthday, one that was both beautiful and practical, and one that Thor had made himself from a kill from a hunt. It had been something of a backhanded gift, however, as the words his brother had uttered were along the lines of 'I know you could never catch such a perfect beast, so I have done you the great favour of catching the animal for you'.

"I hope you do not mind," Frigga said with a slightly nervous smile, "but I chose your wedding attire for you in your absence. I chose according to your tastes, although I admit that I may have allowed my personal preferences to shine through. When you are ready we shall have the tailors adjust it as needed. I do hope you like it."

Loki looked down to the robes, armour and helmet upon the sofa.

She had chosen perfectly for him. He should have expected as much, because no one knew him better than the woman that had raised him, but to see the emerald green robes of such fine material was enough to make his eyes well up again with emotion. The helmet was his usual horned one often used for formal events, such as coronations or grand weddings, but the armour she had chosen in a more stylised and intricate form, with patterns of vines running along the edges, in a style that seemed to speak as much of her personality as it did his. He reached down to touch upon a metal arm-guard and smiled warmly.

"This has been waiting for you for two days now. I knew the moment that the choice was put to you that you would make the right decision, I never doubted you for a moment. To think that we only have a week to prepare!"

"It is perfect. Thank you."

"We have so much to decide for the ceremony and for the reception," Frigga stated with a hint of excitement. "I know that this is not exactly a dream scenario for you, but I can not let myself be brought down with negativity when I have been blessed with a second-chance with my youngest son! If you can not be excited, then please let me be excited for the both of us."

"Does this not _disgust _you?"

"Never! Nothing you could do would ever disgust me." Her voice was stern and left no room for argument. "To Odin it is fine for me to consider you my son, because as an in-law you would be such anyway, but I shall tell you a secret . . . you will always be my son, regardless of blood or marriage or any other ties. Would I rather you marry for love and desire? Yes, that I shall not deny. I also cannot deny that Thor will treat you well as a spouse and treat you with respect, and that this marriage will let us be a family once more. You can do worse than Thor."

"You never cease to amaze me."

He wondered if her acceptance would continue if the issue of an heir were to ever arise, for at the moment they were merely two men playing house, each with their own agendas and motives for this political union, but one day that may not be enough. There would be war, too. Loki anticipated how all eyes would be on him, waiting for the inevitable betrayal of his people, and he expected that this would distract them from strategy and battle. He wondered how she would feel then.

It was a relief to see her so content, but as much as she threw herself into the events with the excitement typical of a mother it seemed to be only a trivial distraction. They had spoken at such great length during her few allowed visits to his cell, but it seemed that there was still so much more to say, things that he had lacked the courage to say to her and things that he had felt unimportant until this moment, until he realised exactly what it was that he had missed. She tried to distract herself from her son's pain by throwing herself into the following week's celebrations, and he could not deny her that. He could never deny her anything.

"Where is Thor, Mother?"

Loki looked away from the clothing to his mother. It was too painful to look at the clothing laid out upon the sofa for him, because it served as nothing but a visual reminder of the obligation that lay ahead of him, a duty that he could not escape without sacrificing everything. It was easier to look to his mother, to use her as an anchor for all that he felt and as a symbol for hope, but when he looked to her he could not help but see Thor within her. He saw the other man's boundless optimism and vast innocence. He saw those same feelings and wondered in that instant how Thor felt, if he was abiding this better than he was or fearful to an extent that would put even Loki's feelings to shame. Where was Thor?

"I have not seen him since he came to my cell with the Allfather," Loki said. "If Odin Borson can deign to stop by the cells of a mere prisoner, surely Thor can spare a moment to speak to his future spouse?"

"It is tradition not to see one's betrothed the week before the wedding," Frigga said with a voice that shook with pain. "Thor also expressed a desire to have this week to himself, to enjoy his last few moments as an unmarried man and to come to terms with what is to come, and I think that it is wise that you do not see him. It would only confuse matters and perhaps cause doubts in your mind."

"I would like to speak to him. I need to know what he thinks of all this."

"Thor loves you dearly, Loki, but you must realise that as much as he wishes for his brother to return to him, he believes that all hope for that is lost. He cannot trust you. I believe he agreed to marry you to stop my tears and bring you back to me, but I also think that somewhere – deep within – he believes that the Loki he once knew may somehow respond to our love. He feels conflicted. He longs for the man that he lost, but he is unsure if he will find that man again, and if he does not then your new ties will only serve to remind him constantly of what he has lost."

Loki stood silent for a moment. He wondered if she knew the impact that her words had upon him, whether she realised the fear and anger that existed within her youngest son's heart. It was painful enough to be forced into such a decision, as if his own wishes no longer mattered, but to then be slighted by Thor himself . . . to be told that Thor would rather be alone than to discuss the inevitable union . . . it was a confirmation of his worst fears. He was not worth talking to.

He cast a sad look to the wedding apparel and wondered what Thor would wear, if perhaps he had talked at length with their mother so that their outfits would complement one another, or if Thor even cared about what he wore at all. There was no denying that Thor had sacrificed a lot for him. He had thrown away a chance at a union with Jane, he had now the eyes of a nation upon him, and he would be tied to a man that he could not trust in the slightest. Even if Thor could not trust him, he clearly loved him greatly as a brother should. Still, did that mean that Thor considered him to be an equal or worthy of respect? No. He acted merely out of duty towards one he considered a brother and the one that was his mother.

Loki walked away from the sofa and moved towards the window. The glass ran from the floor below to so high above that it seemed to reach to the heavens itself, and from his window he could see their city in all its glory. The sky outside began to darken, with vast shades of red and purple that merged into the skyline, and as Loki watched he felt himself awed by the beauty and the lights, by the stars and the silvery moon, and he wondered where Thor was in this dusk. He wondered what he felt.

"If he is waiting for me to 'come to my senses', then he may be sorely disappointed," Loki snapped. "I am the same man I have always have been. Nothing has changed. He is merely seeing me for what I really am, rather than what he wanted me to be."

"You are in pain. You act out to ease your suffering. The state of pain is not a natural one, my son, but one that tells us that something is wrong that must be corrected. Odin believes that you acted from ill intent, but a mother knows her son better than any other, and I know that you acted from the devastation in your heart. It is my hope, and Thor's, that our love can ease your pain and cure your suffering. You will come back to us, I am sure of it."

"This would be easier if I could just speak to Thor. I need to know what he thinks of me and what he expects of me." Loki continued to look out as Frigga came behind him. "I tried to kill him not once, but _multiple _times, there is no plausible way for him to trust me. The first time was half-felt, but the others . . ."

"Your emotions were manipulated, Loki."

"Were they?"

He turned to look at her. His expression was filled with sorrow, with his eyes filled with pain and a watery veil that began to cloud them yet again. It was a comfort to have her so close to him, but at the same time he felt alone in his pain, for this was something that she could not understand and would never experience. He felt an acute sense of isolation. It was not like when he had been shoved to the sidelines and ignored, but more like what he experienced in that lonely and empty cell, where he had so much devastation and rage in his heart, but no one to express that emotion to, forced to deal with it alone and to feel it fester. He wanted to feel comforted by his mother, but it felt as if he had merely traded one cell for another. He felt alone.

"They merely magnified what was already there," Loki confessed, "with the underlying threat of torture pushing me further forward, and so can you truly say – for absolute certainty – that I did not _want _him dead? Even I do not know what it was that I intended! How can he trust me when I cannot say for certain that I wouldn't have done the same thing, regardless of the circumstances that I was in?"

"He loves you, Loki, is that not enough?" Frigga held tight onto her son's shoulders and tried to comfort him as best as she could. "Trust can be earned, and you will earn his trust and prove yourself to be the good man that I know you are. Listen to me, my son, give me your hand, and listen."

Frigga turned her son around to face him.

She gave a smile that seemed to suggest that she was hiding just as many emotions as Loki felt, but – like Loki – felt as if that she could not express them. Her hands ran down his arms before they took a hold of his own, where she then lifted them high and held them firmly with affection, but her touch was painful to his wound. He winced. She saw his reaction to her touch and looked down to his hand, and then her smile was washed away with more unshed tears.

She saw the blood upon his knuckles and the deep cuts upon the back of his hand, and then – as she turned his palm gently – she caught the harsh wince across Loki's features and felt him instinctively try to pull away. She felt fast to him. She looked down to the many cuts on his inner hand, cuts that were violent and edged with purple and blue, bruised from where whatever edged blade had been pulled into them, and she must have realised in that moment that such a wound was self-inflicted. Even if she never saw the broken table in his old cell, even if she had never heard the stories of his regularly bleeding feet or violent tempers, she would have known that he had done such damage to himself. She would have known, because she knew him well.

"Oh, Loki," Frigga said with a sad sigh. "You were locked in a cell with a bare modicum of furniture, you were given no sharp objects or weapons, and yet you still managed to damage your body in this way. The guards told me that you often threw and destroyed furniture, that your body was often bruised and sometimes bloody, but I thought they exaggerated as guards are prone to do."

"The guards had no part in this," Loki said in their defence. "They treated me as they would any prisoner, with the same respect and indifference they would give to any man. I acted as anyone would in my situation. I lashed out at the only person I could."

"Not any more, Loki."

Frigga let go of his hand and gave him a rather angry expression. It was to be expected, with all things considered, because Loki had once thrown himself into the abyss and another time threw himself from a building with only half-a-hope of landing onto an oncoming craft, and his injuries were not exactly secret from the people who came past his cell and saw him laying with nothing but his sorrow for company. She loved Loki too much to see him hurt; he knew that, even if he were the one who had caused such damage.

"Come, let me clean your wound."

"Yes, we wouldn't want the blood to clash with my outfit."

"Do not be obstinate, Loki. We will delay the fitting and alterations until tomorrow, but for today you will clean your wound and spend time with your mother. I want to tell you about all you have missed, I want you to tell me all that you feel, and together it will be as if there has not been an absence at all. You are not alone, my son. You will let me fuss over you, because that is the least you deserve."

It was hard to argue with someone that held such a beautiful and sincere smile, who treated him with such infinite kindness. She treated him with a respect that so few others did, but she also gave him a love that he had been lacking all his life, and in her company he felt as if that there were no shame in showing emotion, that perhaps he was worth something more and deserved her fussing and coddling. He felt safe. He wished for a way to pay her back for such kindness, but even if he could she would never have accepted anything from him, claiming that to be called 'Mother' was a gift in itself. She loved him without expecting anything in return.

"_Thank you_," he said.

He truly meant it.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Thank you to _LadyFlowers, Guest _and _Te _for your reviews :)

To _Te_: there won't be any original characters. It's difficult to explain in detail about the pairings in the author's note, at least not without taking up great space, but the pairings will only be between canon characters.

**Chapter Four**

'_Today is a most auspicious day._

'_It is a day that we unite not only two souls, but two nations, two realms that have each stood opposed and now stand connected. The Jotun race stands proud and strong, with a fiery independence to be envied, and we hope to learn from their kind as much as we in turn hope to give. We are proud and true. We are forgiving and understanding. We shall aspire to inspire, and from the seed of this union we shall grow and we shall prosper. _

'_Today it is our honour to witness the marriage between our prince, our son, Thor Odinson, and his betrothed, a prince of Jotunheim, Loki Laufeyson. These two men have stood side-by-side for centuries, men in arms that fought for the same causes and brought rights to many, and what each may lack the other provides. They complement each other well, just as the realms of Asgard and Jotunheim shall one day do also, and they shall together make strong what would alone be weak. We cannot stand alone. We cannot exist alone. They shall stand as an example of what partnership, forgiveness, and sacrifice can bring._

'_This is a day that shall live eternally in history. We shall –'_

Loki rolled his eyes at the speech.

He could picture it now: Odin would stand behind the altar, where he would place one hand either side of the bowl upon the smooth top, and there the flames from the ornamental bowl would rise to cast shadows upon the deep lines on his face. To his far right would stand Frigga and Lady Sif, both in ceremonial attire that no living soul could ever hope to compete with, whilst to his far left would stand the Warriors Three in full armour as if ready for battle. Their people would stand tall and powerful, whilst his words would fill the hall with great projection . . .

The hall would be decorated with vibrant shades of gold and silver, with perhaps shades of green throughout as a concession to Loki's personal tastes. The open ceiling would allow natural light to stream through, allowing for the semi-circle of people seated around the aisle to feel the full force of nature, which would make the aisle from the door to the altar seem to glow and radiate with beauty. It would be all so romantic. It would be a ceremony fit for a future king, one that was to be expected from a supposed political union between two princes, and Loki would no doubt feel the eyes of thousands upon him when the doors eventually opened to reveal him standing beside his 'betrothed'. He had honestly never in his life pictured his wedding day, but now it was upon him he felt a sense of dread.

This had always been something meant for Thor. He was the one that would one day become king, the one that all the family's hopes and dreams were placed upon, and the one that would need to provide an heir and stand as an example for the nation. Loki had never – in all his life – thought that he would be the one to be standing before these grand doors, doors that acted as the only barrier between his life as a free man and a new life as a man chained to Thor. Those doors would soon open. They would open and then there would be nothing to stop the marriage, nothing to prevent their union, and Loki would begin a new life in unseen chains.

"Ah, Loki, I apologise for my tardiness!"

Loki closed his eyes and counted to five in his mind. It was difficult to remain calm when he had to keep his hands clasped in front of him just to refrain from shaking, and more so when he could hear his heart beating like a military drum in his ears. It was difficult enough to stand waiting for the doors to open to his future, but worse when – for a brief moment – he had feared being stood up like some jilted bride by the one person that had sworn to always stand by his side.

He opened his eyes with a heavy sigh and kept his gaze focussed hard upon the golden doors, with each one engraved with beautifully intricate designs that would put even the greatest artisans to shame. To his right side he sensed the motion of the man that had once been his brother. Thor adjusted his outfit as several servants, including two of Loki's guards, guided him to his mark and helped him into his metal-feathered helmet. It seemed that Thor seemed to struggle to remember his place. No sooner had he been positioned perfectly would he take a step back or a step forward, sometimes just adjusting his footing to face Loki better for an oncoming conversation, but no matter how he moved he would always be moved back.

"This fussing -!" Thor snapped. "I have not been left alone all morn."

"Is that right? All these servants and not _one _to tell you the time . . . amazing."

"Come now! I made it on time, did I not?"

Thor slapped Loki's back playfully. It was unfortunately quite a strong gesture, especially when Loki had always been more academically inclined rather than the sort to focus on his physical strength, and it sent him hurtling forward a few steps. The past few months spent in confinement had not helped him much in maintaining his strength, with exercise being limited to how much that he could pace in his cell, and so he could not help but glare harshly as he shrugged his shoulders and forced himself back to his mark. He was beginning to feel more like an actor in a play than a man waiting for his wedding ceremony to begin.

"_Your _father began his speech almost six minutes ago," Loki said with anger seeping through into an almost venomous tone. "You are lucky he is so long-winded, else I may have been left standing here alone when the doors opened."

"You worry too much. You always have done."

"You know that a man who is late for his wedding," Loki continued sharply, "will probably be late for his funeral. Do you have _any _idea how _humiliating _it is to be kept waiting like this? I am not standing here out of choice, Thor. I was forced here in order to win my freedom, and then you – _you _– think that is kind to keep me waiting and make me fear for the worst. I would be back in prison without you."

"I am doing you a _favour, _Brother, you would do well to show me some respect for such a sacrifice," Thor said firmly, before he knotted his eyebrows awkwardly and gave a sigh. "I am sorry, I mean '_Loki_' . . ."

"So I am to be expected to forever wait upon you, is that it?"

"That is not what I meant and you know it! It is strange to me though, because after this day that I cannot deny the truth behind yours and father's words: I am no longer your brother. In my heart I feel different, but from this day forth you shall be simply 'Husband'. It seems bizarre that I must lose my brother in order to save him."

"Well, we all must pay a price for freedom."

Loki turned his head to look upon his fiancé. The expression upon Thor's face was a look of sorrowful resignation, with his blue eyes focussed upon an invisible spot on the floor, and yet he also wore a sort of sad smile. It was not often that Loki saw such deep emotion across the other man's face, because Thor was a man who preferred simpler feelings and to express himself clearly. He was not one for deep reflection or internal debate. He was what he seemed.

It seemed that Thor was content with his choice, because it would enable his brother to be free and would not change his life too dramatically, but the pain his eyes – the slight downturn to his smile – spoke clearly of a pain that would not easily be erased. Loki wondered if Thor thought of Jane, if perhaps he considered this 'union' to be a form of betrayal to the first and only person that he had ever given his heart to, but then it was difficult to say when they had not shared a single conversation since his time in the dungeons of Asgard. It was frustrating that Thor had not spoken to him, because without those words it was like he had been sentenced to marry a stranger.

Loki drew in a deep breath and looked to Thor properly. It seemed that the other man had – at the very least – taken his wedding attire seriously indeed, to the extent that many would have swooned or considered themselves lucky to have been wed to such a man. He had worn his blond hair loose about his shoulders, but had styled it well and kept it tidy, and his armour was made of what appeared to be solid gold, but kept into his usual style so as to express his personality. The cape upon his back was a vivid crimson, whilst his trousers and clothing were silvery in shade. He looked good.

"I must admit though," Loki said begrudgingly, "that you look very handsome."

"Truly? You tease me so much for my apparel that I rarely know if you are jesting or sincere, but if you mean it seriously then I thank you. I did not want to embarrass you by looking less than my best. This is your day, too."

"Oh, Thor, such romance! Do you mean to say it's _our _special day?"

"There! That is why I can never take you seriously!"

"Because of my undying admiration for you?"

Loki raised a hand to his heart and turned to bat his eyelashes. It was almost too natural to fall back into their old patterns, their familiar routines, but there was something comforting about knowing that – despite all hardships – they would always hold some affection for one another. It was a gentle teasing with no cruelty behind it, a way of bonding really. If Loki teased just enough then he could almost fool himself into believing that nothing had changed at all.

"Yes," Thor laughed. "Stop it!"

He hit Loki on the arm in a playful manner with the back of his hand, but this time with such gentle force that Loki wasn't knocked over or bruised from the action. He then brought his hand up to grasp tightly around the back of the dark-haired man's neck, before he laughed through his nose and dropped his hand away, and as he shook his head in disbelief Loki was sure that he caught a flicker of genuine emotion from what would soon be his husband. He forgot, for a moment, about what lay on the other side of the door. They both lived in the moment.

It was then that Loki noticed how Thor seemed to fidget, just slightly. He appeared to twist his wrists in a subtle way to adjust his chain-mail arm-guards, and he moved from heel to toe as if seeking to relieve a pressure on his foot from the knee-length boots. Loki was well aware that Thor disliked formal attire, especially ceremonial clothing, but in the past week he should have been fitted many times for his outfit, enough to stop it from irking him so clearly. It was one thing to think that Thor had been too busy with preparations to talk to him, but if it had turned out that the young prince had shunned important talks _and _preparations to party . . . well, Loki was sure that he had been allowed _just enough _magic to turn Thor's mead into horse piss.

"I am not sure how Father could have ever worn this," Thor said awkwardly. "I thought it a great honour when he offered me the outfit, it is the same outfit that he wore to his wedding with Mother, but now I think he just wanted me to suffer as he must have suffered. Still, to win a sincere compliment from _you_ -! It may just be worth the discomfort after all."

"Wait . . . you are wearing what your _father _wore to _his _wedding?"

"Of course! Why do you ask?"

Loki shook his head and raised his hand to his temple, because with the stress and frustration of the oncoming proceedings he already had an encroaching headache, but now that headache threatened to become an outright migraine. He cast Thor a dark look that spoke of disbelief and exasperation. Thor merely returned it with an annoyed expression of his own, with both remaining silent as if they both expected the other to realise what the other meant. It was Loki who broke the silence.

"You are marrying the man that you once considered your brother," Loki said in an oddly calm manner. "You were raised with him from birth. He wears an outfit chosen by your mother, who – I may add – still considers him to be her son, whilst you stand in the exact outfit that your father wore on his wedding day to said mother, and you – _you _– see nothing at all wrong with that?"

"No, I do not. What reason should I to find fault?"

"_Wow_."

Loki shook his head and gave a dark smile. This was truly an awkward and disconcerting event, to say the least, but made all the worse by the fact that Thor appeared not to notice anything wrong in the slightest. It was clear that Odin disliked Loki, perhaps even hated him . . . to be told that he was a mere creature, to be told that he had been _born to die_, as if he should be grateful merely to exist . . . it was a wonder that the elderly man could even _bear_ such a ceremony.

Their mother – no, _Thor's _mother – had been forbidden from visiting Loki, with her visits existing merely in illusion and magic, where both had to admit that it was an open secret, a hidden truth that all already knew. She could not stay away from her son, no matter what her husband and king commanded. It was perhaps only Odin's love for Frigga that had prevented him from finding ways to temper her magic and Loki's, certainly only his love for his wife that allowed him to even _consider _allowing the 'prisoner' out of his cage for any reason whatsoever. Loki had not spoken to Odin since he gave him an answer, but surely the old man had spoken to his son?

"Thor," Loki said coldly, "do you trust your father?"

"I trust him unconditionally and completely. Why do you ask?"

"Do you know what he said to me when he brought me in chains before him? I had chains from collar to handcuff, from handcuffs to fetters, and from fetters to the two guards at either side of me . . . he sent away our mother, he spoke to me like a common criminal . . . he told me that I was born solely to die. He said that I should have died that day. He then threw me in the dungeons to rot."

"I do not understand what –"

"You were only allowed to visit me once you and our mother had worked out this insane plan, once you convinced your father to agree, and even then he did so solely to appease his people and soften his queen's laments. He wanted me dead. The only reason he _didn't _kill me is because I asked for him to, I am sure . . . you think that he wants what is best for you, perhaps even for us, but are you sure? I see him hoping that I will die on the battlefield and thus the marriage will be over before it has begun, or that he hopes my ties to you will end your ties to Jane Foster. It is – after all – better to marry an 'Asgardian' than a mortal."

"This is a conversation that can wait for some other time."

"Yes, for _after_ the damage is done?"

It was hard not to look down at his hands. He could almost feel the handcuffs still on his wrists, as well as feel the sting of his battle wounds and the cold glare of the Allfather's eyes upon him. His magic had been his only luxury, a way of masking his weakened body to those few that deigned to visit him, and other than books he only had the screams and cries of his fellow prisoners for company. It felt as if he were merely trading one cell for another. He was not gaining freedom, but the _illusion _of freedom permitted by a man with hidden agendas.

Loki wanted to have the conversation then and there. He was loath to admit it, but he shared many qualities with Odin Borson, including his silvery tongue and warlike thinking. He _could _suspect the old king, because he _knew _how the old king thought. Odin would need to soothe the political tensions within his kingdom, a union being the greatest and most effective way of doing that, but he would also wish to appease his queen and prevent any unwanted relationships between Thor and an 'unworthy' person of questionable descent. Loki was certain that Odin would have pushed for a marriage with Sif, if things were not currently as they were, but one thing was for certain: Thor could not rule with Jane at his side.

There was no certain way of knowing what went on within Odin's mind, but Loki knew that – were he in their king's position – he would have chosen the exact same way. That was perhaps the key difference between Thor and Loki: Thor was a man to think with his heart, but Loki was a man that thought with his head and considered the long-term consequences. It seemed that one man did not wish to be king enough, whereas the other man wished to be king too much.

"Now is not the time for serious discussion, Loki," Thor snapped. "We are to be married in mere minutes. I would rather begin the ceremony with a smile than a frown, if it is all the same to you."

"We could have discussed this before now," Loki replied sharply. "I noticed that you weren't exactly in a hurry to see me, but that is understandable. It must have been _exhausting_ all that effort you put in to asking about me and visiting me, after all. Tell me, where were you all this time? Drinking with Volstagg? Flirting with Sif?"

"It was my stag night! You know that such celebrations can last for many days."

"I spent a _year _away from home, _months _in prison, and you can not even spend _one day _to put my mind at rest about what is to come? It seems strange that you would want to celebrate this day anyway. Is there something you know that I do not?"

Loki noticed that the servants had scattered. There was a part of him that hoped it was to avoid the anger and wrath of the two men, but he knew that in reality it was merely because the speech would soon be at an end. He could hear a roar of applause from within the grand hall. The cheers and cries seemed to echo all around them and filled Loki's head with an almost painful noise, and then the din quietened down and he thought he heard Odin begin to recite the prayers necessary to begin.

In the meantime Thor let out a nervous laugh, as he raised his hand high to signal to the guards behind them to take a step to the side. They would stay within close distance, just in case Loki changed his mind at the last moment and decided an eternity in prison would be preferable to life in a political marriage, but they would step aside in order to give the _illusion _of freedom. No one would see the guards once the doors opened. They would merely see two men – both dressed formally and immaculately – side by side, that would then walk in unison down the silver-carpeted aisle to the altar to swear their vows. It would look elegant, regal, perhaps even romantic, but the one thing it would not look would be staged.

"You sound like an old housewife already," Thor said with a smile.

"Then I will be sure to nag you until I get an answer," Loki continued. "You are about to marry someone that you can not trust in the least, someone who is now acting as a barrier between you and true love. Why do you seem so happy?"

"Loki, this may well be the only wedding that I get."

Thor looked to one side at the younger man. It would be difficult for him to talk honestly with guards around, even if they took their duties seriously and never spoke a word about the things they heard, but Thor seemed to express in gestures what he could not in words. His smile was a sad one, a smile that seemed to speak of faraway memories that were both pleasant and painful. He appeared to be looking for something within Loki that Loki was incapable of giving . . . he seemed to be searching for the brother that he had lost, the one who understood Thor so perfectly and would listen to him so intently. What he saw now, Loki did not know.

"I will not deny that I dream of Jane's forgiveness," Thor admitted softly. "I thought that I would visit Earth to ask for her hand, not to tell her that I now held the hand of another, but what is done is done. Father seems to think that war with Jotunheim will come very soon into the close future . . ."

"You are aware he likely plans for me to die in battle?"

"I think that he may be mistaken," Thor continued. He sent a dark glare to Loki and pretended as if he had never heard. "You cannot be freed completely until you prove yourself trustworthy, but there are too few ways to do that when the crimes you committed were so grave. I do not think that father plans for you to die in battle, because to do so would destroy our mother's heart, which he could not bear. If you think that your death is the only way to make amends –"

"I either die and you become free, or I prove myself in battle and the marriage may stand a chance at annulment, but if war will not come for some time . . . this seems more like an opportunity to mourn than to celebrate."

"If the war takes too long to come, then an annulment may not be possible."

Loki remained silent for a long moment. It was possible that Thor told the truth, that his father sought to have Loki make amends and prove his worth on the battlefield, rather than to die an 'honourable' death. The only certainty was that Odin had a prisoner that he needed rid of for his son's sake, but whether that came through death or redemption had yet to be seen, with both being almost one and the same in the old king's eyes. It all hinged upon the war though, which had still yet to come.

The greatest fear was that the war would not come for some time. It would mean that their relationship would have time to become accepted within the mind of the public, with time for Loki to become liked in the public-eye or for Thor to be painted as a hero for such a selfless display of mercy, in which case any annulment or severing of ties would reflect badly upon both. The worst-case scenario would be the expectation of an heir, in which case – should one occur – the relationship would be sealed forever and there would be no end in sight except for death itself. Loki hated Thor in that moment. He hated him for having spent his time ignoring the problem, as if it were something that could wait, because now that Loki had agreed to it there was no backing out. They had agreed to this blindly.

Thor seemed to look sadly to the doors, awaiting their opening. Yes, if this were the only wedding that he would have, it was understandable that Thor would want to celebrate the occasion and distract himself from the regret, but Loki wanted – _needed _– some form of an answer. They both did. The air between them was thick with tension, each one needing to say a thousand or more words that there simply wasn't time to say, and as much as they wanted to forget the past . . . they couldn't.

"That is not a depressing thought at all," Loki said dryly.

"It could be worse. There is still the kiss that will end the ceremony."

Loki grimaced childishly, which caused Thor to burst into a fit of laughter. The blond-haired man seemed to relish in the ability to laugh, because it broke the dark realisations and freed him in that moment, and his tearing eyes and shaking head actually forced Loki to give a small grin of his own. One of the guards winced at the heavy sound of laughter, surprised by the sudden and spontaneous act, whilst another respectfully gestured for quiet, so as not to draw attention from the crowd outside those doors and ruin the Allfather's speech. Loki smiled against his will.

"You know exactly what to say to make everything better," he said sarcastically.

"It took your mind off the future, did it not?" Thor replied with a bright smile. "Look, they will not expect a deep or romantic kiss, if anything that would only disturb those closest to us, especially those who still see us as brothers."

"So what . . . a kiss on the cheek, a peck on the lips? Wonderful."

"You make it sound as if we have never kissed before!"

It was hard to remain calm in the face of his betrothed's stupidity. He sometimes wondered if Thor acted as he did to Loki simply to rile him and provoke a reaction, or if he sincerely meant what he said and did with the innocence that it seemed to be intended. Loki turned his head to the other man and gave him a very hard look. He kept his green eyes narrow and allowed his smile to leave him almost entirely, whilst thinking back to all the times that Thor fell for his lies, as he hoped that he wasn't falling for some sort of trick himself. This was not a conversation he wanted to have.

"Those were platonic kisses between two brothers," Loki said firmly. "There is a _very _large difference between a kiss on the forehead when relieved, or a peck on the cheek in greeting, especially when compared to a kiss upon the lips at a _wedding _ceremony before _thousands_ of our people. I refuse to go through with this marriage if you think that they are at all one and the same! It feels like a violation enough as it is."

"Well, there was that one time . . ."

"It's clear that you exercise every muscle but your brain," Loki snapped back. "If you're referring back to the battle in Jotunheim, then it seems we are remembering those events very differently indeed."

"Not at all! You were struck a hard blow, if I remember rightly. You had passed out upon the snow, you looked so broken and bloody, you had begun to turn icy blue –"

"I wonder _why_."

"I thought you were dead! I remember crying out in fury, whilst Sif and Volstagg held off the oncoming soldiers, and then I told you that your death would not be in vain and placed a kiss upon your lips . . . of course you woke up and told me that it was not polite to take advantage of the dead, and that my breath smelled of rotten cheese, but the fact remains that it was a kiss. Platonic, yes, but still a kiss."

Loki rolled his eyes with a smile. The truth was that in the past thousand or so years that they had shared in so much, with every milestone being passed together as they grew older and wiser with each year, and it was hard to forget the battles that fought or the parties they celebrated or the fights they had. He remembered how cold that day had felt, the fear that he would die when his skin turned blue in the snow, but if he had known then what he did today then he may have allowed himself to die. In retrospect it should have been so obvious.

Thor slapped Loki on the back with a laugh, which would have ordinarily annoyed the younger man, but this time it reminded him that there was perhaps still hope for his future. He loathed Odin, even as he desperately sought for some approval and acceptance, but through it all Frigga and Thor had always treated him the same way that they had from the moment of his birth. He occasionally insulted Frigga, desperate to make his point that he was unloved, whilst constantly throwing barbs to Thor who seemed intent to drive him to insanity, but ultimately nothing had changed. They may not have trusted him, but they did love him. It was moments like these – despite his feelings of being trapped or second-best – that he felt as if perhaps things could return to the way that they once were, that there could be love again.

"I give up," Loki conceded. "There is no reasoning with you."

'_Prince Thor, Prince Loki?'_

A servant entered by their side with a tray in hand. Loki noted that they were immaculately and perfectly dressed, in robes that were in a silver fitting with the overall colour scheme. He almost envied them, for at least they were without overly ornate helmets or confining armour, and – most of all – they had their freedom and served merely out of a desire to do so. The tray in their hand appeared to contain two large glasses of wine, both red and likely highly rare and expensive vintages.

"Your presence will be required in a few minutes," the servant explained. "I am here to offer you one last drink before the doors open. The doors shall open once the final prayer is complete and the applause begins."

"Is that right?" Loki asked. "Thank you."

Thor politely refused the drink with a raise of his hand. Loki, however, snatched the glass from the tray and downed its entire contents in one go. Its taste was delicious, but yet it felt oddly bitter upon his tongue and scorched his throat on the way down, and as he drank he could feel Thor's eyes upon him. It was hard to be anything but self-conscious as he swallowed continuously, but the drink gave him a courage that he hadn't until that moment realised he had been lacking. Loki threw the glass to the floor with a smash once finished and shooed the servant away with a violent gesture, one that left no room for argument.

"No tricks this time?" Thor asked. "No snakes? No oil? No wine that mysteriously disappears once it touches one's lips? I'm a little disappointed."

"I am that sure I will have a _lifetime _to surprise you."

'_- Thor Odinson and Loki Laufeyson.'_

The doors opened wide and the applause began. It was an almost deafening roar that caused Loki to regret having agreed to such a decision, not least because every clap and cheer seemed to merge into the next, creating a cacophony of noises that were indecipherable from the last. He gave a soft wince and turned to look at Thor with an expression of disbelief, before the older man gave a subtle shrug and a nervous smile of his own in return. There was little they could do about the reaction.

Loki drew in a deep breath and proceeded to walk forward with Thor, by his side as if that were where he truly belonged, and as they walked down the aisle – towards the altar where their king stood waiting for them – he felt a sense of dread overcome him that he rarely felt. This was not something he could use his power of illusion to hide from, nor was it something that he could fight his way out of, and he could not even resort to sarcasm without dishonouring their king and securing his path straight back into the dungeons. He felt helpless, with all eyes upon him. He had rarely ever been a spectacle, not even when dragged in chains, but today he was.

The hall was more beautiful than it seemed, but it was difficult to take in such sights when he was obliged to hide his nervousness with an arrogant smile and casual stride, because the only thing more humiliating than to be forced to wed Thor would be for the Allfather to see his fear. He made a point to lock eyes with Odin as he walked. He refused to look at Thor by his side, even when the blond man seemed to strive to surreptitiously send glances his way, as if he craved to tell Loki something with unsaid words or subtle expressions.

It took several minutes to reach the altar, by which point the applause had died and a serene form of quiet had overtaken the hall. Loki moved to stand to the left, with Frigga and Sif not far behind him, whilst Thor stood to the right and sent a rather cocky smile to the Warriors Three behind him, who – to Loki's amusement – sent him apologetic expressions back. Odin stood centre, his body unobstructed from view.

"It is time for you to exchange vows," Odin projected loudly.

Loki felt his hands clench as he drew in a deep breath. He tried to catch the Allfather's eye, but it seemed that he was truly dead to the elderly man . . . Odin merely kept his gaze transfixed straight ahead down the aisle. His hands were hard upon the top of the altar, whilst the flames of the ornamental bowl had begun to die down just slightly, so that the light upon his face felt natural from the sunlight above. It was an awe-inspiring sight. Loki wished that he had paid more attention to the speeches and prayers rather than bickering with Thor, because then he may have gained some insight into what Odin _truly _felt.

"Do you both stand here of your own free will?"

"Yes," declared Thor eagerly.

"I believe so," Loki said.

"Then you will know the _importance_ of the vows to come."

Odin sent Loki a cold glare, one that clearly stated clearly that he would not abide the event being treated with anything less than the respect it deserved. It would perhaps be the most important event in Thor's life, save for the inevitable coronation, and so to treat it with anything less than utmost reverence would be the greatest disrespect. Still, it was a little frustrating for him to be expected to take this charade seriously, but it was a necessary evil if he were to attain some freedoms.

Loki drew in a deep breath. He could feel the Allfather's eyes all too painfully, as well as the eyes of their family, their friends, and their _people_ . . . he could feel the way that Thor looked to him as if to reassure himself that Loki was well, although well or not they had no choice but to continue on . . . and when he saw the white ribbon upon the altar, before the flames, he felt his blood run cold. He had entered this hall as a prisoner, but he would leave a husband imprisoned only by politics and marriage itself. There would be a reception in their honour, then they would retire alone to their new rooms, and then the talks would inevitably come . . .

"Today two lives shall become one," Odin said for the hall to hear. "We are here to witness the union of these two souls, souls that shall be bound for eternity in the blessed sanctitude of marriage, and from their union we shall draw forth inspiration and hope. Their commitment, love and loyalty shall act as a beacon of light within our lives. The darkness that once existed within them shall be vanquished. Today they shall be born anew and purified with love.

"Thor Odinson. Loki Laufeyson. You stand here today as two incomplete souls. You have lived but a shadow of life, each one of you lacking what the other possessed, but today you shall pledge to share your gifts. You will set aside your own needs to provide for the other, and in such a union you will finally become complete. In this new life you will find wholeness, purpose, and a sense of peace. You will be strong. You will be honourable. You find yourselves better men and inspire each other to be better still. It is a union that shall require loyalty, compromise, and complete fidelity. Do you both willingly consent to this union?"

"Yes," Thor exclaimed proudly.

"I suppose," Loki muttered.

"Do you both enter this union knowing what it entails? Do you both understand that from this day forth that you shall pledge your hearts, bodies and souls to each other, that no other person shall be permitted to touch you emotionally nor physically?"

"We do," Thor answered.

"_We do?_"

"Then it is time to tie two souls together."

Odin gave a wide smile. It was obvious to Loki that such a smile was faked, but – regardless – it seemed to sate the need of the people for foolish sentimentality. He seemed to stand as a father blessing a sacred union between his son and his betrothed, a ruler that sought to unify two warring kingdoms with an act of forgiveness and acceptance, and as he stood – regal and strong – he inspired an entire nation. It didn't seem to matter that his words were hollow, just so long as he delivered them with such strength that his audience believed them. He had an enviable gift for speech and rhetoric. Loki wondered how many people – aside from those involved in the ceremony itself – realised that this was a mere act.

"Thor Odinson, take the cloth from the altar. The cloth that you see is white, pure and unstained, much like your love for one another, and its tie shall stand forth as a symbol of the ties that bind you together as one. You will tie one end of this cloth to the wrist of Loki Laufeyson. Loki Laufeyson, you shall in turn tie one end to the wrist of Thor Odinson. This shall complete your union."

Thor stepped forward and took the cloth from the altar. He raised it high as if he had accepted a trophy or a great treasure, and presented it to the attendees with a flourish. Loki presented his forearm with far less elegance, as if he had submitted to a medical test rather than a romantic declaration of love, and strove to keep his arm steady and refrain from shaking. He couldn't say that he was at all pleased to be _tied _again to anyone, even if it were a mere symbolic gesture.

He saw Fandral whisper what seemed like a joke to Hogun, which caused the more stoic man to merely give him a 'look'. It distracted Loki from the fact that Thor clumsily – and a little too tightly – tied the cloth to his wrist, and it also made him wish that he could cast a spell that would show the so-called 'warrior' just what Loki thought of him, but on this occasion that would be quite impossible. He wanted to know what it was that they thought of him. He wondered if they expected him to betray them all at the first chance, sealing his fate to be executed, or if he would simply submit and become the ideal spouse to a future king, as if he would gladly sacrifice his entire identity just to remain out of prison. He felt judged.

Once Thor had finished the tie, Loki took the other end and sharply and quickly tied it to his now husband's wrist. He made sure to knot it rough, enough that Thor jerked his hand back rather violently to prevent Loki tying it tighter, and – whilst the blond man shrugged it off as nervousness to the crowd – Loki knew that he was rather livid from the glare in his blue eyes and the strain upon his smile. Their hands were now a mere few inches apart, kept there by the white cloth. Loki wondered if a couple in love would have held hands instead of tensely keeping distance.

"You may now seal the ceremony with a kiss."

Loki rolled his eyes.

He noted the omission from Odin's speech about how such a kiss would be the first one shared amongst many, or that to kiss before a crowd was a sign that the union was now official and one that no person could deny, or even that it would symbolise the romance and love between the two. He likely omitted such a speech due it being nothing but lies. There would be no other kisses, the marriage was in name only, and the only arguable love between the two was platonic.

Thor seemed to give a heavy breath through his nose, unleashing a noise that sounded somewhere between a hiss and a sigh, and then used his free left hand to turn Loki's head towards him. Loki clenched his jaw and tightened his lips to the point that they became nothing but a white line, desperate to make clear his objection to this, and as he refused to consent Thor simply glared back. _Good, let him be angry_. Loki did not move, he did not make an inclination to act, and so Thor was forced to lean forward and place a small peck upon those closed lips. It lasted about three seconds at most, enough to look romantic and nervous, but also enough for Loki to be tempted to spit just to teach Thor a lesson. It may not have been Thor's fault, but he resented it nonetheless.

"Congratulations, Thor Odinson and Loki Laufeyson," Odin declared. "You have declared your love and sworn your oath. Today shall begin the first day of your new life. I declare your betrothal over, now you are one!"

The eruption of applause deafened Loki. It seemed that their people were quite supportive of such a union, which made him wonder what lies they had been fed to make them so accepting. The crowd of attendees would consist of family, friends, high-ranking officials, warriors, and diplomats . . . the best of their society . . . and they would watch Thor and Loki walk down that aisle tied together, joined as one, and they would cry and cheer and smile.

Loki wondered if he had made the right choice.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone who reviewed :)

**Chapter Five**

"Congratulations on your wedding, Thor!"

Volstagg seemed to strike the blond man firm upon his back. It looked like a friendly gesture, one between two close friends and comrades, but the strength of it may have knocked a lesser man off his feet. Loki narrowed his gaze slightly and continued to watch from afar, because – even if he were somehow welcomed into their group – he would rather stand alone as an outsider than as a fellow to men that thought that a friendly punch was the same as a soft handshake.

The large man held a glass of mead in one hand, which spilled over the sides with each and every movement of his meaty arms, and he occasionally let out a billowing laugh that seemed to make everyone around him laugh in unison. It was a seemingly infectious laugh. Those around him – save for one – joined in the laughter and raised their glasses to an unspoken toast, whilst Thor stood centre of his small group and drank in their praises. Sif stood beside Volstagg in a beautifully tailored gown, silver to match the rest of the colour scheme, whereas Fandral and Hogun stood opposite to Thor's right, in full armour. Their positioning may have intimidated a lesser man.

"I believe the congratulations should come _after_ the wedding night," Fandral joked. "The day is merely a chance for the women to celebrate and gossip and dress themselves ornately, whereas the night –"

"Whereas the night is _what_?" Sif asked coldly.

Fandral cleared his throat suspiciously and gave a nervous smile. It seemed that he had spent centuries in the company of females, with his time spent evenly between fighting besides Sif and flirting with random wenches, and yet he still had yet to learn the way to talk without offending the fairer sex. It caused Loki to smile in anticipation of what was to come next . . . he had to admit to finding the four friends of his 'husband' highly amusing, at least in the way that could pass time and make him feel slightly better about himself. He may be trapped, but he was never that useless.

"Well, the night is for the men," Fandral continued weakly. "The day is always spent attending to the women's needs, well it is only fair that come the evening that the women then attend to the men's . . . come now! I am sure that Thor will back me up on this; it is his wedding day, after all!"

"I will do no such thing," Thor laughed. "I know a lost cause when I see one!"

"Aye, as do I," Sif replied coolly. "I would be quite interested in hearing about the duties to which women owe their men, Fandral, why don't you continue for us? It seems that you could teach me many things."

Loki watched with mild interest as the group began to bicker amongst themselves, their jibes were friendly and their banter was simple, and it was almost impossible for an outsider to even realise that anything was wrong. They clustered around one another as if today were just an ordinary celebration, and even their talk was casual at best and spoke nothing of the seriousness of what had occurred. It was as if they strove to remain in the belief that nothing had changed, because at least then they would not have to welcome Loki back into their fold.

It was all too obvious that they sought to exclude him. He could not have stood more than seven feet from their group, alone aside from a glass of mead and a pair of guards who strove to remain inconspicuous despite their close proximity, and yet they honestly did not seem to see him, or – perhaps – they merely strove not to acknowledge what they saw. They talked, they drank, and they jested, whilst Loki stood excluded upon the sidelines. The reception halls were filled with people, but it seemed that half of those people were too afraid to talk to the 'trickster', whilst the other half felt far too beneath the 'royal prince' to dare to talk to him. He would have felt slighted were it not for the fact he was used to such things.

The hall was streamed with vast banners of silver and gold, with the thousands of attendees for the ceremony now in the mere hundreds for the 'intimate' reception and following feast, and yet each one was so exquisitely dressed that Loki began to feel underdressed for his own wedding. It was a beautiful sight, indeed. There was no denying that no expense had been spared in the day's events, and even the vast windows had been allowed to stay open to allow the glow of the moon and stars to shine through brightly. It felt far too poetic for something that was merely a lie, a sham concocted to save his life at his mother's request.

"It is just a shame that you have to spend your wedding night with Loki," Fandral said sadly. He raised his glass and nodded a salute to Thor. "It seems almost a waste, especially if this is the only wedding you'll get. My condolences!"

"You think too much with one head and not the other!"

"That may well be," he continued with a laugh. "We fought hard after you retrieved the Tesseract, there were so many wars in so many realms! It is about time that we had cause to celebrate and enjoy ourselves! It is just a shame that you have had to sacrifice so much . . . you are our friend, but I don't see why we have to stay silent for this sham of a marriage . . . don't you long for real love?"

Thor's expression appeared to darken. There was a long moment where he simply stared down at the drink in his hands, where his blue eyes seemed to take in a sight that no one else could be privy to, and a loose plait of hair fell to the side of his face. It was as if he were mourning the loss of the life he once had and could have had, the life with Jane by his side as his wife, a life where he would have been free to make his choices with his father's unconditional support, rather than a life with those decisions made for him, that love conditional upon his abilities as a ruler.

He then looked up, and through the gap between his friends he managed to make eye contact with Loki. There was a faint smile upon his lips that seemed to be both for show and yet sincere, as if he needed for the other to know how he felt, but there could be no mistaking the tiredness to his eyes, the sorrow to his brow, and Loki wondered how he had managed to hide such pain for so long. It was something that caused Loki's expression to turn serious. This was a side of Thor that he had rarely seen, but today it seemed that Thor was speaking _to_ him rather than _at_ him. It was as if Thor saw him as no other did: an equal. Loki could not help but listen carefully to the words that followed, because there could be no ignoring a look that held such deep-felt emotion and conflict.

"I long for peace between the realms," Thor confessed, "and the life of my brother."

"He is not your brother anymore," Hogun interrupted.

"That may be so, but I still owe him a duty. He is my husband! I will not deny the man that I have pledged my life to, not least when he needs me most. You will forgive me if I do not treat this marriage simply as a joke."

"No one meant to imply that, Thor," Sif said gently, "but you can not deny that Loki is not be trusted. I know that you think that somewhere deep inside him is the man that you used to know, but we must face facts . . . Loki's only loyalties are to himself. He may cause you great harm before this marriage is over, and you would have sacrificed your only love for nothing."

"Ah," Fandral said with a cheeky smirk, "that's the good thing about marrying a shape-shifter, he can be whatever Thor wishes him to be! He can have a thousand loves a thousand times over, all without betraying his vows even once."

Loki rolled his eyes at those words.

It was one thing to be insulted, but another to be insulted so poorly. It seemed that Fandral had no concept of the difference between a physical change of form and that of an illusion that merely appeared different, not to mention the insinuation that Loki would submit and bend so willingly to the will of another. He was not a cheap magician that would perform tricks on command, nor was he an easy conquest that would forget _centuries _of brotherhood for a perceived bedroom duty.

The months of isolation in a jail cell were beginning to seem preferable to this forced 'socialisation' at his wedding, because at least then the barbs and jibes were beyond his earshot, and even a prisoner could respond to a taunt with as much cruelty and wit as he could muster forth in his exhaustion. He had no choice but to abide such insults as things stood. He could not cause a scene at his wedding reception, nor could he risk acting aggressively when he was already seen to be nothing more than a villain, but he could not let such words be spoken without some form of payback. He knew the Warriors Three well enough. If he let them think that they held power over him now, then they would forever torment him for the years to come.

Loki turned his back upon them with a smile. He raised his cup to his lips and tilted it just slightly, just enough to hide his smirk and make it seem as if he were merely taking an innocent sip, then gave a flick of his left wrist quickly by his side. It seemed that Fandral didn't notice anything amiss at first, not even when his friends' laughter increased immensely at his expense. It was only when the amusement of his joke wore off, yet the laughter wore on, that he seemed to notice something wasn't quite right and took a look downwards. It seemed that things were no longer so funny.

Fandral shot downwards to grab his fallen trousers.

The blush upon his cheeks and the stutter to his speech almost made the prank worth it, but frankly it felt a little juvenile by Loki's standards. There was only so much that he could get away with though, especially with all eyes upon him, and so a prank that could easily have been a genuine accident was the best that he could do in such circumstances. He sipped his drink and turned to better appreciate the look of humiliation on Fandral's face, but caught Thor's look of irritation in the process.

"It seems you have a _small _problem," Sif commented.

"Not at all! I think I have a rather large problem, thank you!" Fandral adjusted his clothing and gave a nervous cough. "Ah, I must not have worn my belt tight enough. These things happen, unfortunately . . . still; at least the maidens now know what they can expect, which certainly can't harm my chances!"

"You should be more serious," Sif chastised. "You are the one to criticise Volstagg for eating too much or Hogun for his stoicism, but now you do nothing but talk of women when our friend is suffering!"

"What do you wish for me to do? The marriage is done now. It's legally binding and even if it were not . . . we couldn't go against the Allfather's wishes! You would attempt treason to try and dissolve a marriage between two people that – as far as politics go – are a perfect match? We may as well just celebrate and then try to come up with a new solution in the morning."

"Then what do we do now?"

Loki drew in a deep breath from where he stood. It seemed that any time someone questioned this union, whether himself or Sif or any other, that there would be someone else to speak of how 'futile' it was or how they should just accept what the Allfather had decided. There was logic to that, after all it was a theoretically sound decision and there were yet no other alternative options, but he wished that someone would at least fight for some other way, that they would find a way to free him without him being tied to a loveless marriage. It seemed that fighting was too much effort, or at least where Loki was concerned.

"Now?" Fandral asked. "Now we toast before the feast! _To Thor_!"

He watched as the four friends raised their glasses high. There were hundreds of honoured guests to this reception, but they only saw the world that existed within their group. They were lost in conversation and comradeship, with each man and woman concerned only with what the next thought and felt, and – whilst such a close relationship was enviable – it was difficult not to feel like an outsider and intruder upon their social gathering. Loki sighed and shook his head.

They raised their glasses high and toasted to Thor . . . not to Loki _and_ Thor, simply to Thor . . . and as the four drank the world moved on around them. The noise of so many voices all speaking at once made the reception feel like an unnatural din, whilst the pushing to and fro gave a hectic energy to the proceedings, and yet all the while Loki stood on his own beside a long table filled with various appetisers, simply listening to the conversation that occurred not that far from him. He began to long for the quiet of his room, only to feel that hollow despair that his rooms would no longer be his own, because from now on he was husband to Thor . . . they would share Thor's rooms and his privacy would be non-existent.

"Thank you, my friends," Thor said sincerely.

He raised the cup to his lips and Loki acted. The black-haired man flicked his wrist again, but this time with a solemn expression. It was difficult to forget the hollow promises, the childish belief that his family held that he could somehow be 'fixed', and the way that they had forgotten him for the past week in order to celebrate without him. He hadn't expected for things to change on his release from prison, but a part of him had hoped – after proving his strength – that they might finally see him as an equal. It seemed that he was still second best to Thor.

Thor immediately spat out his drink upon the first swallow. A cloud of liquid and spit fell upon Lady Sif, who looked moments away from slapping her prince in fury, whilst Thor continued to choke and splutter. Volstagg clapped a hand on Thor's back forcefully to try and dislodge the liquid that cluttered up his airways, and yet the tears rose to Thor's eyes as he seemed to struggle for breath. It was drew a lot of attention from those standing closest to the group, but not enough for the guards to abandon their posts, especially as their prince seemed to finally catch his breath and clear his lungs. Eventually Thor raised a fist to his mouth and used another to wave an apology to Lady Sif, all as his glass now lay smashed upon the floor, something which Loki had not noticed at first due to Thor's outburst.

"Are you okay?" Hogun asked.

"No, the mead," Thor said with an embarrassed smile, "it tastes like horse piss! Surely mine was not the only one to taste so bad? I was sure for a moment that I had been poisoned, it was by far the worst thing I have ever tasted!"

"That is strange. My mead was quite delicious."

'_Loki, that was quite a cruel jest to play upon your husband.'_

Loki turned with slight embarrassment to face Frigga. He bowed his head, grateful for the fact that a servant had taken his head-ornamentation at the beginning of the reception, and tried not to appear too pleased before her. She had a habit of drawing raw emotion from him, emotions that he could not hide, but he also knew that it would be too dangerous to show to her everything that he felt, because it was possible that those emotions could be used against him. He tried to keep a relatively straight face as he feigned an innocent smile. He raised both hands to his chest, palms visible save for where the cup in the left obscured the view, and made an act of declaring ignorance of the whole event.

"I have no idea what you mean, Mother."

"You know very well what it is that I mean, Loki."

Frigga stood tall with an elegance that was to be envied. There was no indication of ill feeling or worry in her expression, and so her words could only mean that she was disappointed in Loki's behaviour, not angry or fearful of the potential consequences as he may have expected. She truly wanted what was best for him, for Thor too, and this shone well through her pale skin and light blue eyes, eyes that seemed to soften just slightly with a hint of sadness due to his actions.

She was beautiful though, everything that a queen should be, and Loki could not help but wonder if this would have been how Jane looked were she to be wed this day, if she would have appeared as regal as their current queen did. Her golden locks were curled high upon her head, exposing her neck and face for all to see, whilst her golden dress seemed to speak of a great cost that had been paid for its creation, with a matching cape that draped around her shoulders and kept her upper arms from view. There – across her shoulders and neck – sat a clear material that was cast with thousands of small diamonds, each one glistening in the moonlight and making her seem more regal that she ever had. She was admirable indeed.

"I understand what you feel, my son," Frigga said calmly, "but what you feel is of no fault of Thor's. It is the fault of circumstance and fate, it is the fault of your actions that caused you to be imprisoned to begin with, but Thor is blameless in this."

"Yes, because Thor can do no wrong," Loki spat with a hint of spite. "Thor would _never _shove me to the sidelines, he would _never _mock the few talents that I have by referring to them as mere 'tricks', and he would _never _chose a girl that he has known for _three days _over the brother he had known for a millennia. Do you know where he was this past week? _Do you_? I don't!"

"I do. He spent this week on Earth to explain to Jane Foster that he was sorry to have spent so long away from her, but that he was now betrothed to another. The rest of his time was spent trying to find an alternative solution in some of our oldest books of law, before finally preparing for the wedding."

"The celebrations –"

"Were nowhere _near _as grand or as long as you assume them to be."

Frigga gave a warm yet sorrowful smile. She reached down to take Loki's hands in hers and looked to them with a motherly affection, and as she held them he felt their warmth stronger than he had ever remembered. It reminded him of the times when he had been a young boy, when he would scrape his knee in a fight with Thor or burn himself with a miscast spell, and she would place a soothing hand upon him and sing calming words to him to distract from the pain. He disliked that she still saw him in the same way, that she refused to accept the changes in him, but he could never stop loving her . . . not when she was the only one to show him love in return.

"I know how you feel, Loki, I truly do . . ."

"You know _nothing _of how I feel."

"You are not the only spouse to feel nerves upon their wedding day," Frigga explained gently. "Are you not frightened by what is to come? Do you not feel nervous about what is to be expected of you? I am not oblivious to your pain, Loki. I understand your suffering and I wish you would understand that you are not alone."

"This is _not _the same as your wedding day. It is fair from it."

Loki snatched his hands away from her. He did not want to feel her warm touch or kind words, because they felt hollow and devoid of real understanding. He admired the strength of her love and her desire to help the man that was like a son to her, but that love felt misplaced and misguided, and the more that she fooled herself into believing that Loki was like her . . . someone sympathetic, someone more than just a creature . . . the more she insulted the intelligence of both of them. He wanted comfort, but he did not deserve it. He did not deserve the love of someone so pure, not when he had dirtied his hands with the blood of so many. He was not like her.

Not too far away he heard Thor laugh loudly at a joke told by one of his friends, and when he turned his head he saw Sif brush a lock of black hair behind her ear with a rather flirtatious smile. Loki wondered if Thor knew how much Sif wanted him, or if he knew that Odin had wanted a marriage between the two and arranged for contrived circumstances for the two to be left alone together, or even if he knew how perfect Sif would have been for him. There was no hope for Sif now, or for Jane, because Loki had 'won' Thor in a hopeless contest.

"It is true that your day is not quite like my own," Frigga continued sadly, "but that does not mean I am oblivious to your pain. I loved Odin with all my heart, I trusted him not to hurt me in the way that you can trust Thor not to hurt you, but I lived with a deep fear that day regardless of what I knew. I live now without fear, because I know that there is nothing _to _fear, but on that day – so long ago – I had no way of knowing this. I had no knowing what kind of husband he would be.

"I knew more than what you do today, because of our long courtship and betrothal. There was great discussion of what was to be expected of me, what duties I would attend, even how we would raise our heirs, and yet so many questions were left unanswered . . . to plan is not the same as to know. We could plan out our lives in great detail, but we had no way of knowing if things would go as planned until we experienced those things first-hand. There were times when our relationship was tested. Odin would react with anger to what I thought he may be pleased with, and times when I acted contrary to what he expected of me, but we worked together. We communicated well and as such all conflicts were resolved peacefully."

"So my fear is unfounded? Is that it?"

"In some respects, yes," Frigga answered. "We hear many horror stories of what life may be . . . for the maiden this is the blood and pain of the wedding night, for the prince it may be his loss of freedom and treatment as a mere object, and we come to believes these tales. All I know is that many maidens remember their night as the most romantic night of their lives, and many princes find their power vastly increased by such a union. The young fear the worst, but the elders expect the best."

It was difficult not to be touched by her words.

He felt a form of comfort in that she seemed to believe in the best, but his situation was not at all like hers. The guards not too far from his stood silent, almost as if they were mere decorative statues without minds of their own, and yet despite their absolute composure – their oath to silence and complete confidence – they stood as reminders of the freedom he had sacrificed. They were there for _him_. No matter what Frigga thought she understood, she never had guards to prevent her potential escape.

Thor appeared to be unaware of the conversation between Loki and Frigga, although he occasionally cast glances to them between the wall of friends that blocked his view, and as their eyes met they seemed to share something that the others could not be privy to. It was difficult to pinpoint an exact emotion, but the way his eyes narrowed and his smiled seemed to darken spoke of both anger and fear, as if he saw something in Loki that disagreed with him. They would have no time alone until the reception was over. There would be no chance for Thor to break away from his friends, no chance for Loki to speak to him alone away from the guards or their mother, and no way to ask him just what it was that he felt or expected.

It was only when Thor looked away that Loki realised he had been staring. He drew in a deep breath and turned to his mother with as much of an arrogant a smile as he could muster, as if the realisation he had been staring had not fazed him in the least, but she knew him too well. The smile on her lips spoke of an understanding; she knew how Thor's actions affected Loki more than he would have liked to admit, and how this perceived rejection stung more than he would have liked. He almost hated her in that moment, because she saw in him more than anyone ever had. He felt vulnerable.

"You know that Thor loves you very much," she said softly. "He went to Earth to end what could have been between him and Jane. The Warriors Three went with him, which is where they spent some days, but Thor risked his father's wrath to do such a thing . . . he wanted to be honourable and do what was right. He did not want to enter this marriage whilst he was tied in any way to another."

"So I should stay silent and play nice? I should feel _indebted _to him?"

"I merely mean to say that you should appreciate all that he has done for you. He has not acted selfishly once, but has always put your needs and the needs of our people first and foremost. He married you out of duty and love to his mother, who wished for you to live a life free from chains, and he gave up upon the woman he loved above all others to do so. He loves you, Loki, even if it is not how a husband should. That love may be platonic, but it is still there. It is still real. Did you not see the engravings upon his vambraces when he came to Earth? Those were your symbols he wore."

Loki put down his glass onto the table. He clenched his hands into tight fists and felt the need to walk away stronger than ever. This was not like the times in his cell or even the times when he fought with Thor, he could not simply waft away an illusionary image or start a fight to avoid a discussion, this was something that he had to abide for the sake of dignity. He was obliged to remain at this event, in the same way he as obliged to pay his mother respect. He carefully picked his words and looked at her with a stony gaze.

"If I promise to treat my _husband_ with a modicum of respect," Loki said coldly, "will you let this discussion be? I am sure that I will have _millennia _to hear Thor's praises sang over and over again, so just for today I would like to talk about something else."

"Very well, but remember that a little kindness goes a long way."

'_Frigga, my queen!'_

The voice was enough to silence all groups that were within hearing distance, including Thor and his friends. Loki noted with distaste how they all seemed to exude an aura of reverence, with some bowing in respect and others that simply seemed to step back out of deference, and Loki remembered how – a long time ago – that he had been just like them. He had bowed his head in greeting, he would hold his tongue at a command, and he would have obeyed any order. Not now.

He watched as Odin came forward in long, confident strides. It seemed that with each and every step he radiated all that a king should be: strong, collected, and self-aware. Odin knew the extent of his power and there was not a shadow of doubt in his mind as to how his people and queen would react, and so there was no need to look around – no need to second-guess his steps – because it was evident to all that those around would act exactly as was expected of them. Indeed, by the time Odin had came close to his queen she had already offered forth her hand with a smile, and Odin placed a chaste kiss upon it as if this routine were all too familiar.

"It is time for the feast," Odin said. "Come, let us enter."

Frigga took Odin's arm gently and gave him a warm smile. It seemed that whatever it was that she felt towards her king, he reciprocated it tenfold. Loki had almost forgotten what it was like to see the old man smile, how he could express with a simple facial expression infinite love and forgiveness, and he had to wonder – if he were capable of such kindness – why it was that Loki was beyond redemption to him. It may have been that he had never been a son to Odin, merely a political pawn from the start, but still . . . to know that he had never been loved, would never be loved . . . it simply made it clear that his was Thor's wedding day, not _their _day at all.

It was then that Loki felt the presence of Thor come beside him, and it seemed that the blond man purposely stood with left arm out slightly, just enough that if one were so inclined they would be able to take a hold of the crook and walk arm-in-arm. The smile on Thor's face felt far more forced than the one their mother had worn, which had been nothing but serene and sincere. He seemed uncomfortable, like a child made to share under parental eyes. Loki gave a false smile of his own.

"If you offer me your arm, _Husband_, I may just break it."

"Come now, Loki," Thor whispered, as his smile did not break. "You can consider this ample payback for your prank earlier, but if you would rather cause a scene then I am sure that Father would understand."

"Since when were you capable of sarcasm?"

Loki realised that all eyes were upon them. It seemed that – despite their bright smiles and friendly demeanours – those around them were not entirely convinced by what they saw, and perhaps rightly so. The Allfather stood with his queen to the doors of the hall in which the feast would be consumed, but his eyes were dark and heavy upon Loki, as though he waited for the moment for the young man to reveal his maturity, albeit with a cynical disbelief in Loki's ability to remain calm. He was taking too long to take Thor's arm. If he waited any longer it would effectively be the same as a rejection, which would cause a great scandal for a newlywed couple.

"Loki," Thor continued firmly, "there is an old tradition in which the groom carries the bride to the feast. I had always thought you a modern man, but I am not averse to old traditions should the situation call for it."

"I will dye your hair as you sleep for this," Loki whispered back.

"Can you not play nice just for one day?"

Thor's arm remained poised in position. Loki waited for a brief moment, as his hands clenched so tightly that the very muscles in his arms began to ache and his nails drove red crescents into his palms, and then – with an incredibly violent gesture – he took his husband's arm and held it with a smile that now bordered upon venomous. He was certain that Thor's own grin looked no better, but if their people noticed the darkness behind the smiles then no one showed an signs of knowing.

He allowed himself to be led by Thor to the grand doors, with his grip purposely pressed as hard as he could despite the armour and chain mail. He could not have loosened his grip even if he had wanted to, for he felt both a sense of nervousness at having all eyes upon him, and sheer fury at being forced to hold onto Thor as if he were nothing more than a mere maiden. They took place not far behind Odin and Frigga, paying necessary respect to their king and queen by keeping their place, and as they stood Loki drew in a harsh breath and cast a dark glare to his husband. Thor, infuriatingly, merely smiled in return.

It was then that the doors opened to the food-hall. Their king walked on ahead, with his wife by his side, and Thor followed with Loki reluctantly keeping his pace. There was no doubt that the crowd would soon follow, once their sovereign and the couple of honour had entered, but Loki could not allow himself to focus on that. He instead tried to take in the surroundings of the hall; the beautiful decorations and lighting were almost admirable. He wondered if the wedding would have been so lavish had Thor decided to marry any other.

The dining-hall was decorated beautifully in a theme of gold. The main table at the far end held many ornate decorations and was filled with expensive and rare foods, some of which that Loki had not seen in some centuries. There were four seats, each one – like the table itself – elevated so that the entire hall could see its occupants, and at the far right seat sat Frigga and next to her sat her husband Odin, and as Thor headed to seat by his father it became obvious that Loki would be expected to sit upon the far left. He would be unable to talk to his mother. He would be isolated alone at the far end of the table with only Thor to talk to, and the whole while he would have hundreds of people on a dozen or so tables to gaze upon, watching them without being a part of them. It was depressing indeed.

"Take a seat, Loki," Thor said kindly.

"Oh? You will not pull out a chair for your husband? What manners!"

Loki threw himself into the chair without much grace, as Thor took a seat beside him with a dark glance cast in his direction. It was hard not to notice Thor's displeasure, especially with how he angled his chair away from his new husband and yet seemed intent on watching his every move, almost as if he could not trust the other not to act out or cause trouble in some way. Loki would have been offended, but he was far too used to people expecting the worst of him. He also couldn't deny it was justified.

It seemed that the tables – all lined vertically before the 'bridal party' – were filled quickly and with little trouble. Those of greatest honour were seated closest to Thor's table, with the Warriors Three and Lady Sif only but a few feet away from their friend and comrade whilst those with the least connections were at the far end, away from immediate sight and likely out of mind. There were those like Volstagg who had already began to consume the food before their king had so much as raised his fork or his voice, which had earned a few sharp jabs to his ribcage from his friends, and those like Hogun who seemed so indifferent to the situation that Loki was surprised that they had stayed for so long after the proceedings. It was almost more amusing to watch the reactions of the crowd than to participate in the feast itself.

Once the attendees had seated themselves, Odin stood and addressed the crowd. He wore a bright expression that appeared to silence those present almost instantly, one that spoke of a regal ruler whose words carried great weight and wisdom, and yet Loki could not help but smirk at the sight they must have made. Thor appeared to hang on his father's every word, as he looked up at him with a mixture of modest embarrassment and prideful hero-worship, whilst Frigga sat with a look of indifference and serene sadness, as if pondering her son's predicament, but both sat with elegance and respect. Loki, however . . .

He leaned back in his chair with one foot upon the edge of the table, looking as he might if he were forced to watch Thor spar or listen to a lecture that he had heard a dozen times over. He kept his eyes focussed at an empty corner of the hall and folded his arms across his chest, which seemed to make his reluctance to be there rather obvious and perhaps disconcerting for a newlywed man. He had no doubt that Thor would chastise him for it later.

"I thank you all for attending the wedding of my son, Thor Odinson," Odin projected warmly, "and his new husband, Loki Laufeyson. We cannot express gratitude enough for the kindness that you have shown us today. You have gifted us with your presence. You have honoured us with your respect. In return we offer this feast to you, and pray that it may bring you as much joy as we feel today. Please, begin!"

The noise of the crowd began afresh. There were the noises associated with mealtimes – belching, slurping, and tearing – combined with loud laughter and conversation that seemed to fill every corner of the room, even beside him the sounds were inescapable. It seemed that even Thor had lost himself in the revelry, at least by the way that he tore into a joint of meat and laughed at something his father appeared to say to him, and as the conversation continued . . . as those around him ate and celebrated . . . Loki realised that he was the odd-one-out for these events. He was alone at the end of the table, with the eyes of hundreds of people upon him. If he were to be alone without company then his cell would be a much preferable place to abide it.

Thor eventually turned to Loki with a genuine expression of concern, whilst it appeared that Odin and Frigga conversed with each other and watched over the proceedings with an almost interest. It was difficult to think that was how a married couple should be. They showered each other with subtle affection, looked at each other adoringly, and spoke soft words that were clearly words of love, and that relationship – one of equals and respect – would be forever denied to Loki and Thor.

"Loki!" Thor exclaimed. "You must eat! It will do you well."

"I think not. I would rather eat without the eyes of hundreds upon me, _thank you_."

"You will be sick if you starve yourself. You know that."

"I will be sick if I eat. You _should _know that."

"Just one bite, come now!"

Loki looked down at the feast before him. There were various meats scattered about upon dozens of plates, bowls of fruit and vegetables that were so fresh that they may have only been picked that day, and glasses of wines and meads that would have been tempting in any other situation. It was true that he hadn't eaten since the night previous, and aside from water for breakfast and wine before the ceremony he had not allowed a drop of liquid to touch his lips. It hadn't seemed wise to eat a single bite when he struggled merely to keep his hands from shaking.

"I am not a child, Thor, do not treat me as such."

"Very well, then will you not humour me? Just one bite!"

Loki was well aware how stubborn Thor could be. He remembered the times when his own wishes would be conveniently forgotten for what was now his husband's, to the point that he had learned the best way to get what he wanted was to subtly manipulate Thor into believing the idea had been his all along. It didn't work all the time, such as times like these where there was little room for argument and little time for distraction, but it had worked often enough. Thor would not give in this time though.

He reached out for a slice of meat and held it in his hands for a moment, but the more he looked at it the less he felt an urge to eat. It had always been known that Loki's appetite had not quite been like other Asgardians, but his nervousness had combined with his displeasure to erase any desire for food that he had, and as he looked at the meat he felt a sickness that he hadn't felt for some time. He needed to focus upon keeping his stoic façade. It took all his strength simply to sit beside Thor without instigating an argument or demanding answers, but to eat too . . . he was certain that he couldn't stomach it. The very scent of the meat made him feel nauseous. He put it down on the plate and turned to Thor with a sarcastic smile.

"If you will excuse me, I feel somewhat unwell."

"Do you need me to go with you?"

"I may depend on you for so much, Thor, but I think that emptying the contents of my body is something that I can do alone. That is . . . if I have your permission? I would not like to offend my husband by being sick without his consent first."

"Just go, Loki. Your food will still be here when you return."

"Wonderful."

Loki stood quickly and made his way down the steps of the platform. That the table of the wedding party had been raised caused the attention upon him to be greater than it otherwise would have been, and so it was difficult to slip across the room without feeling the eyes of many people upon him. He wondered what they thought of him, what excuse Thor would whisper across to Odin, or even if this would be symbolic of the rest of his life: a series of permissions sought and permissions granted.

There was a large door at the corner of the hall that led to the washrooms, with a guard that stood either side. It was an innocuous entrance towards the front of the hall, on the far left out of sight, yet Loki was almost certain that the eyes of every guard scattered about were upon him. He stood before the doors and expected entry, but found that the two men blocked the way with their spears. Loki clenched his hands and tried to refrain from causing a scene. It was difficult to ignore the glance they cast to the head table, or the way that they gave a nod of acknowledgement and lowered their weapons, and Loki had to breathe deep to keep his cool. He had meant his quip to Thor to be ironic, but it seemed that he had spoken with more truth than he realised. It seemed that any freedoms he had were a mere illusion.

He marched through the long corridor and took a step into the bathroom. It was a relatively small affair, but beautifully decorated. The ornate decoration included a wall that comprised entirely of mirror space, with the dozen or so closed cubicles opposite, and centre of the large room lay a table filled with incense and perfumes, scents that pervaded the air and were designed to relax the body. Loki ignored the mirrors and stalls and walked straight to the sinks opposite him, where he at once began to splash his face with water. It cooled his skin and helped distract from the feelings of nausea and unease.

"Are you well, Loki?"

Loki froze and looked into the mirror above the sink. He had not expected to be followed into the bathroom by another, least of all someone who appeared concerned for his health, and he at once began to wonder what ulterior motives were in place. It was hard to believe that Lady Sif had followed him out of the kindness of her heart, but Loki didn't fear at all as he knew that the guards would have been sent to follow him and stood outside the bathroom doors themselves. It would be impossible for Loki to act out, but – likewise – Sif would be unable to start a fight also.

She stood in the doorway with a rather unreadable expression upon her face, which made clear that she in no way trusted Loki. Sif had followed him to make sure that he did not cause trouble, although what he could do – with guards all around him and a limit on his magic – he did not quite know, and yet she stood there as if she had every right to be there. In a way, she did. She had every right to just 'happen' to need to use the facilities, just the same as she had every right to check on the actions of a known traitor, but Loki still felt slighted both as a prince and the husband of Thor. It seemed the status he had been given was in name only. He turned around and kept both hands upon the silver marble, desperate for something to keep them still.

"Lady Sif, what a pleasure."

"You seemed unwell," Sif said indifferently. "I felt it my duty to the prince consort to check upon his health. It would not do for you to fall ill upon your wedding day, especially for you to be so ill alone as you are."

"Ah, what kindness," Loki spat. "You did not wish for me to be alone? I am sure that there is no hidden agenda to that other than concern for my safety, after all it is not as though I am a well-known trickster and a man whose ledger runs thick with red. Then again . . . perhaps you are not here out of concern for your realm? You _were _very close to Thor, were you not? Even the Allfather saw potential in you."

"I _am _very close to Thor, enough to wish him only the best. He is my comrade, my friend, and my prince. If you are here to plan or plot against him, Loki, then I am afraid that you have come to the wrong place."

"You are right. My only place is beside Thor . . ."

Loki tightened his grip and felt his gaze fall just slightly, although not enough to leave the stoic expression that Sif wore and to alert her to his discomfort. He knew that his mother was right, that he should not resent Thor when the older man had only acted with his best interests at heart, that Thor had sacrificed a lot simply so that Loki could live, but when the marriage stole away the few freedoms he had it was difficult not to feel somewhat bitter. He had to remind himself that this was better than being trapped in a cell until the day of Ragnarök. It was a necessary evil.

"To think," Sif responded, "you used to complain about being behind Thor."

"Whether I was left far behind in his shadow," Loki said bitterly, "or whether I live chained to his side as his husband, I will _still _be closer to him than you ever will! I was his _brother_, I am his _spouse_, and you are nothing more than a crying bint that lives her life forever wanting what she cannot have! You will _never _catch his eye, no matter how often you watch him from afar! _You ridiculous woman_!"

"I almost felt sorry for you . . ."

Loki raised a shaking hand to his temple. His fingers felt like ice upon his skin, a thought that only heightened his panic and anger, and as he pulled back his hand – desperate to avoid the reminder of what he was – he looked at it with a shaking gaze and a feeling of sickness. It was difficult to come to terms with what he was, but worse when half his people loathed him what they thought he might be, whilst the other half loved him for the man that they thought he could still become. No one saw Loki for what he was, but frankly he had no idea who he was anyway.

He put his hand back on the marble and looked to Sif with a scowl, but she seemed merely indifferent to his frustration in response. She had never liked him, in fact none of them had trusted him, but whereas before her distance had merely been frustrating it now felt unbearable. He felt alone. He was tied to a man that was determined to 'bring back' Loki, even if the Loki he thought he knew had never existed, whilst his mother spoke softly to him about how misguided Loki was, even when he himself knew himself to be nothing but a monster. How could he find himself when people were so convinced that he was either a shameless villain or a helpless victim? The world could not be so black-and-white, surely.

Sif turned around and made to walk away. She had came to check upon him, for whatever reason, and if he cast that attempt at civility aside now then he would be stuck with only Frigga and Thor for company for what could be a long time indeed. He could not win her trust, nor did he wish to, but he could perhaps gain a tentative ally and an acquaintance, something that would be beneficial to him if he were to remain tied to Thor for some time . . . that was if he had not destroyed what little friendship had been there completely.

"Wait, _please_!"

"It isn't like you to beg," she said.

"In case you haven't noticed, I have nothing left to lose," he spat bitterly. "I once had my dignity and pride, but now I have not even that. I'm just an arm-decoration for Thor, I am a man that will one day be forced to help raise an heir or else to die on a battlefield, and my only other alternative is imprisonment in a cell where my privacy is merely an abstract concept. Forgive me if I seem a little bitter."

"You could still win your freedom." Sif turned to face him properly. "You could earn our trust, fight alongside us, and renounce your old ways. It may take decades – even centuries – to atone for your crimes, but the only barrier to this is yourself."

"You mean, if my patience wears thin and I try to usurp the throne –"

"Do not joke, Loki. I will be forced to report it."

He gave her a forced smile and shook his head. The truth was that they had never liked one another, and because of that it would take twice as long as it otherwise might to form some sort of truce. He had stood between her and Thor for some time, always the confidante and friend for Thor that no other could be, whereas she had stood as everything that he wanted and yet could not be. He had – in his way – envied her, because even a woman had gained more respect from Thor than he had. Lady Sif had become a warrior, whereas Loki . . . a magician, nothing more.

It was difficult not to feel bitter against a woman that was still treated as more masculine – as more of a threat – than Loki himself. He had learned the 'feminine' pursuit of magic from his mother, a magic that when combined with Thor's strength had made them a formidable team, something that had saved their lives on multiple occasions from a certain death. Sif was the one they trusted and revered, whilst Loki had been the butt of jokes and the one to be mocked at all costs. He knew that he was mourned after his believed death, but he wondered what had been said and done after his attack on Earth, what cruel taunts and jibes would have been uttered behind Thor's back about Loki and how he had been a monster all along. Sif could not trust him, but nor could he find it in himself to trust her.

"I apologise," he said sharply. "I am rather unwell and I can't say that today has been the happiest day of my life, but I appreciate you coming here to check upon me. I am well aware that a mere Jotun is beneath the concerns of an Asgardian."

"You never ceased to be an Asgardian, Loki. You ceased to be a man of honour, a man whose first words upon his return were ones of mockery as opposed to regret, but you are an Asgardian. Our queen believes that you act this way out of pain, whether that is true I cannot say. I will treat you with respect though, because Thor wishes so."

"Then you can send my gratitude to my husband," Loki replied with a smile, "I am sure that you will see far more of him than I will. Still, I am sure that my illness is fleeting, you have nothing to worry yourself with."

Sif gave him a hard look. It seemed that she was caught wondering about the meaning behind Loki's words; there could be no doubt that he was hiding something, whether it was mockery to hide the sincerity or sincerity to hide the mockery, but all that could be certain was that he hid his true feelings well. He had always been a private person, but now his feelings were all he had to call his own. Loki gave her a chilling smile and tried not to think about the feast that waited for him upon his return or the wedding night yet to come, because to think about such things would cause the worry to return and force him to reveal a side of himself that he could not bear.

"Very well," Sif said. "I congratulate you on your wedding."

She walked away with grace and elegance befitting one of her position, but her exit left Loki completely alone once more. The guards at the doors restricted his right to free movement, he could not act or speak freely without being accused of going against their king, and to return to the hall would be to accept his new role and submit to it as if he were no longer anything else than the spouse to a prince. He could not stay in the washroom forever though. He had to return.

Loki forced a confident smile and strode back into the hall.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Thank you to _Franca-the-Fortress_, _LadyFlowers_, and _Don'tCallMeAnnie_ for your reviews :)

**Chapter Six**

"_The Art of War?_ Cliché."

Loki threw the book to the floor. It landed with a heavy thud despite the white rug that it landed upon, and it fell open to where Thor had obviously marked his place, however in Loki's view anyone that _folded _a page – instead of using a bookmark – had _no _right to own such a book to begin with. The pages were well thumbed and somewhat yellow, and if Loki's memory served him right then the book had been a gift for Thor from his father for his first lesson in swordsmanship.

The bookshelves were stacked rather immaculately, each book in alphabetical order and separated according to genre, and that seemed to Loki like quite an incredible feat in and of itself. The servants would have had to have transported hundreds upon hundreds of books from Loki's personal library, then spent a vast amount of time rearranging them and organising them to Loki's liking, and considering they had only the time of the ceremony and reception, not to mention that Thor's bookshelves were designed to collect only dust, it must have been difficult indeed. He would have to congratulate them on their effort when he gained a chance. He reached out for the second of Thor's sole three books and looked at the cover with a raised eyebrow.

"_The Life of Bor Burison? _Narcissistic nonsense."

"Loki, if would you treat my belongings with some respect -!"

"I think not." Loki threw the biography onto the floor with distaste. "You _are _aware that you own only _three _books and _two _of those can hardly be called 'literature'?What were you using these shelves for before today?"

Loki turned slightly to give his new husband a dark look. Thor merely picked up his books from the floor and moved to place them on a decorative shelf far away from where Loki's books were stored, almost as if he sensed how much of an offence they were to the younger academic, which suited Loki well. If he saw them again besides his own texts, he would likely destroy them or give them away to the first passing servant that he saw. He pulled out the final book rather harshly, before he sent a dark glare at the blank cover that told him nothing of its contents.

"They held mainly armour and clothing," Thor snapped. "I think the servants may have moved those into the closet. Your clothing should be there also, Loki, perhaps you would prefer to change than to destroy my rooms?"

"Why did you remove this book's cover? Oh, _I see_ . . ."

Loki smirked as he thumbed through the pages. The illustrations were rather artistically drawn, with great accuracy and detail being put into their depictions, and charms had been placed upon the odd drawing to cause it to move slightly upon the page. They weren't as historically interesting or as detailed as the pictures within the history books or the art books, but they were enough to cause Loki to stop for a moment and admire what it was that he saw. He felt it curious that such a book could have stood beside the others so innocently.

It was only a matter of seconds before the book was snatched out of his hands, leaving Loki standing in the living room with empty hands and merely a bookcase to gaze upon, and when he turned he saw that Thor had lifted Mjölnir and had used it to put the book under its weight. There would be no way for Loki to read it now, but at the very least he had succeeded in annoying Thor just enough that the older man would resort to such an extreme measure to keep a mere book out of Loki's hands. It made him tempted to go through the rest of the rooms with the same level of attentiveness, because if such a find could be found in full view then there surely had to be more incriminating objects lurking elsewhere out of sight.

"Interesting. I did not think that you held such interests."

"It was a mere curiosity, nothing more." Thor's voice had become rather heavy and rough, as if he spent all his energy upon holding back his frustrations. "I would prefer it if you would not rummage through my belongings, Loki. It has been merely ten minutes and already my patience wears thin!"

"Perhaps if there were more of _my _belongings, save for a few books and items of clothing, then I would have something _else _to occupy my attentions? Really now, just because we're married I am to share _all _of your likes and tastes?"

It was difficult to stay calm. The feast had gone on for far too long, with Loki unable to leave for as long as his husband chose to remain, and he began to feel exhausted from the long day and little food. Their return to Thor's rooms had been more than welcomed, even if the lewd comments whispered – quite audibly – by Fandral had put a further damper upon Loki's mood. He cast a rather dark look to the book now hidden beneath the hammer, a book that he genuinely hadn't thought his brother capable of reading, and he felt a surge of embarrassment and anger at the memory of what he had seen and what some of their people seemed to expect of them.

"If we _are_ to share in all things," Loki said with a bitter smile, "then let me say right now that I certainly won't be doing _that_."

"You are not funny, Loki! I am too tired for your tantrums!"

"Is that right?"

Loki threw his arms up as if daring his husband to retaliate. He bent forward slightly and kept the dark smile upon his lips, because even in his anger he could not help but feel a sense of horrified amusement at their predicament. It was true that he needed to find a common ground with Thor, to learn to be civil and polite, but that was difficult when in the midst of such a sham his very voice had been taken from him. Not _once _during the day had anyone asked how Loki felt, what Loki wanted, or what was to become of Loki . . . not once had anyone even _questioned _the marriage. It was infuriating to say the least! Once again, it had all been about Thor. Oh, so long as the heroic prince was happy then nothing else mattered, least of all Loki.

He stepped back to the bookshelves and picked the heaviest tome he could find. It happened to be an old book of lore, one that he had read so many times that he had all but memorised it, and as he bounced it in his hands for a few moments he felt it a hollow gesture. He would gain nothing more from screaming at Thor than he had done from destroying the furniture in his cell, and yet there was something quite relieving at having some outlet to his pain, especially when that outlet was also the cause of all his troubles.

Loki threw the book with great force, but Thor merely swatted it away midair.

It was an empty gesture indeed. The only thing he succeeded in was a dangerous glare and a rough growl from Thor, followed by the sound of the leather-bound book striking the wall with great force, enough that Loki regretted his action in fear of having damaged the tome. Loki merely gave it a cursory glance, before he threw his hands up and began to pace the length of the room as best as he could, and as he did he felt his hands clench and his breathing still. It was hard to remain calm. The entire day he had bitten his tongue, but now he would be allowed to speak.

The living area to Thor's rooms was quite different to Loki's by far, expressing as much of his husband's personality as his rooms once had of his own, but now it seemed that all of Loki's belongings had been relegated to boxes stored in the closet, as if by being out of sight that they would remain out of mind. Loki despaired of the gold and white theme, of how sparse and minimalist Thor's rooms were, and how claustrophobic they felt despite all of this. He loathed that in an entire day – in rooms that were nearly as big as what his had been – that not one place could be used for his belongings. It was one thing to be ignored by those around him, but this was a whole new offence. It was as if his individuality, his very personality and soul, were being stamped out entirely.

"You have not listened to me once, _not once_, all day!" Loki shouted. "If a tantrum is what it takes to get you to listen to me, then why shouldn't I act out? If I were still a prisoner then I could understand it, but I am not a prisoner, _I am your husband_, and as such I demand to be treated with a bare modicum of respect!"

"Oh, that same respect you have shown me, Bro-? _Husband_?"

Thor marched across the room until he was a mere few inches from where Loki stood, until he was close enough that the other man could have easily have struck him a great blow had he still in possession his weaponry, and he looked somewhat furious despite the impeccable control he exerted over his anger. There had been a time when he would have lashed out at Loki physically, a time when if he didn't strike his brother then he would have stormed out of the room in order to break something himself, but not anymore. He had changed and Loki could not deny that.

"You blame me for the favouritism our father has shown," Thor snapped with great force, "even when that is completely out of my power! You insult my allies and myself, you betray my trust every chance you get, and you destroy my property on a mere whim! That is not to mention the way you sought to subjugate the people I had sworn to protect, or your threats against Jane!"

"Oh, so we are listing faults now, are we? You are far from perfect, Thor! You are the one who began this oncoming war by _invading _Jotunheim, the one that _insulted _his father and ruler out of sheer vanity, and that spent his entire life mocking me and belittling me! You _still _cannot control your temper! You risked my escape just so that you could fight two complete strangers on Earth, and then fell for another of my tricks out of a need to put _me _in my supposed place! Pardon me, if I find you to be beneath me and unworthy of my respect!"

"What do you want from me, Loki? I grew on Earth, I learned from my mistakes, but you still see me as nothing more than a spoiled child and an undeserving prince! I sacrificed Jane for you, I sacrificed my only chance at love for you -!"

"So I should just kneel before you in gratitude, is that it? I never _asked _you for anything! I didn't ask for this! You _stole _my freedom!"

"What do you want from me, Loki? Tell me and cease this attitude!"

Loki drew in a deep breath and tried to remain calm. He hadn't realised how heated the argument had become until the silence ensued, because now the quiet descended he could hear both his and Thor's heavy breathing as loud as his heartbeat in his ears. It was a hissed breath from Thor and a near pant from himself, but combined it sounded unbearable, enough that their anger was palpable and seemed to fill the air with such tension that it made Loki almost afraid to speak.

He knew that he had failed his mother by treating Thor as he had, and perhaps he merely took his frustrations out on the only person that he was now able, but without an outlet for his pain he may have exploded into an uncontrollable rage. He could not go back to that dark place again. It had been his rage that had nearly destroyed an entire planet, then later sought to enslave an entire race, and if he had been released from his prison in any other circumstance – without the constant eyes and close guard – he may have likely resorted to his role as trickster and villain, but he had been released with restrictions. He knew that he had to find some way to make a truce with Thor, because the only other alternative would be to return to the prisons.

"I do not want to continue life in the shadows," Loki admitted with reluctance. "If I am to spend my time married to you making amends and earning some worth, then I need someone to _hear _me. Any time I speak it seems that your words are so deafening that mine fall flat, and even when we are alone you tell me to wait to be heard . . ."

"I tried to listen to you! You merely began to throw my books on the floor and insult my person! I will listen to you when you speak with words, not with the tantrums of a child! I do not know what I can say to bring you back to me, back to your senses!"

"You _tried _to listen to me? Interesting. Then tell me this, Thor Odinson, at what point will this marriage be annulled? What will happen when war is declared? What happens if an heir is expected of us? How will we act in public? How are we to address one another? I have asked these questions to you over and over, but all I get in return is an infuriating silence or to be told to 'wait'. Well, I have waited; I have obeyed my husband ever so dutifully! If he has heard me, let him speak!"

"You want to know why I haven't spoken, Loki?"

"Yes, _enlighten_ me."

Thor walked to the sofa and threw himself onto it with very little grace, an action that made him seem less a prince and more a warrior. He was evidently angry, and his rage was barely contained behind his stony expression and tense muscles, but he somehow managed to control his emotions in order to look at Loki with eerily calm eyes. It was almost disturbing to see that blue unmarred by negativity, as if despite everything he felt that he still held a brotherly love for Loki that could not be diminished by any argument or fight. Loki half-wanted him to lash out, because at least if he lashed out then Loki would know how to react.

"I have no answers," Thor snapped bitterly. "Father expects that the war is to come soon, whereas Mother hopes that we will draw closer to one another, but I hold no hope for either. It could well be that war does not come for many years, just as it could be that our relationship shall never be perfect, and if that is the case then I know not what to do. I can not give you answers that I do not have!"

"I never expected a grand or eloquent speech from a man whose arms have spent so long lifting weapons that they have no idea how to lift a pen, but it is a relief to get an honest answer at last. I suppose we will have plenty of time to discuss it later."

"So will you cease to destroy my rooms? I am too tired for such battles."

"If I can make some change to _our _rooms, then yes."

Thor gave a weak smile and flexed his hands as if he felt them for the first time, and when he looked down at his grasp he likely found it empty. There could be no denying that Thor relied too often on his fists or his hammer to settle disagreements, but he had at least learned to hold his tongue after his banishment and to think before speaking, and he had learned patience that Loki almost envied. He recognised that this was difficult for Thor, but he admired the restraint that he showed.

Loki had thought the argument would end far more violently. Thor still held many grievances against what had once been his younger brother, even refusing to visit him or speak to him until the day that a 'solution' had been found, and even then only because their reunion would be inevitable in such circumstances. It was no secret that Thor had chastised their mother for her visits to Loki's cell, that he had questioned their father's choice to look the other way as she cast her spells and sent her gifts, and – whilst Loki rotted in his cell – Thor had 'selfishly' defended the Nine Realms in wars that had taken up his entire time. He made it clear that as much as he loved Loki that he could not yet forgive him. Loki, as such, expected more anger.

They stayed in an awkward silence for a long while, with each lost in thought. It seemed that Thor appeared to find something amusing in the situation, with that smile of his looking ever nostalgic and yet somewhat saddened, whilst Loki could merely breathe a sigh of relief at being heard for the first time since his capture on Earth. He had no delusions that Thor would truly listen to every word, or would even care or understand what he spoke, but at the moment it was simply enough to be _heard_. It would not be something he would admit to their mother, of course, lest he hear warm and hollow words about 'progress', but for now it was enough.

"I know that the plan is for a quick annulment," Loki snapped, "but one of us must be realistic here, Thor. This marriage could last for a long while, and with that being the case I refuse to live like a stranger in my own home."

"I will not object if you wish to make some changes," Thor said tersely, "but just remember that these are not _your _rooms, Loki. I do not wish to return to my rooms one day and find that they are decorated exactly as yours once were, with no touches of my own. I do not mind if these are to become _our _rooms, but you must acknowledge that this marriage must be based on compromise and not control."

"I just spent _months _imprisoned in a cell, with the only luxuries what my mother sent to me, luxuries that you _and _your father would have denied me. I think it's not too much to ask that if I am to be uprooted into your rooms that I be allowed some of my personal belongings and to make some changes."

"_Some _changes, Loki, not _all_! You are right, this marriage may last for a long time, longer than either of us dare consider, and as such we must find a way to live together in relative peace. These will be _our _rooms, not yours and not mine, but _ours_."

"Very well, then tell me: where will _we _sleep?"

Thor stood up and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. It was clear that the long day had begun to take its toll and he likely wished to rest as much as Loki, but there was little doubt that he also would have rather spent the night drinking with his friends and wasting away his time being social. Thor saw tonight as a night to celebrate, a once in a lifetime event that was to be commemorated, but it seemed that was the sacrifice of a 'union' . . . when one wishes to retire, so too must the other.

It seemed that Loki was left standing without answer for a few long moments, enough that he almost worried that he was to be ignored again, but then Thor walked towards the bedroom doors in a manner that seemed rather unsure for a man that usually exuded confidence. He looked to Loki for a split second with what seemed like deference, but what Loki recognised as being an unspoken question . . . the question of whether or not that he could be trusted. It was difficult not to feel offended, because it certainly wasn't Thor standing defenceless on his wedding night before two unopened bedroom doors, but he was too aware of his brother's ignorance to be slighted by such a look. He instead rolled his eyes with a sigh.

"I promise not to hold you accountable for whatever grand romantic gesture lies behind that door," Loki said coldly, "if you will simply let me inside so that I can sleep. The sooner I sleep, the sooner I can pass this off as a bad nightmare."

"You will not punish the servants either? They were rather excited at the prospect of a royal wedding, Loki, they do not deserve to be punished merely for doing their jobs."

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

Loki placed a hand across his chest. The only thing that broke the illusion of such sincerity was the smile that played upon his lips, almost like a half-smirk that pulled devilishly at the corner of his lips, and the way his green eyes seemed to bore into Thor with an intensity that he usually lacked. It was obvious that he still had much to say, that his anger was barely restrained, but Thor's reaction was one of nothing but patience and a calm disbelief. He clicked down upon the door-handles and gave Loki one last stare, because he would not proceed before he held some reassurance that his husband would not lash out again.

"Such a promise would mean more from one that has not already died," Thor snapped. "I mean it, Loki! You will ignore the petals and candles and not make any snide comment. I am not in the mood for sarcasm, nor do I want to find out that you have had the guards flogged for allowing the servants entry! You will hold your tongue and together we will resolve the issue of sleeping arrangements."

"I swear, Husband, that I will keep my temper."

"Good."

Thor pushed open the doors and marched inside. It seemed that the room was exactly how Loki remembered it being, at least for the most part, with the majority of the room taken up by the regal bed and little else in the way of furniture. It was complete with white furs upon the bed and columns engraved with murals of epic battles. It spoke richly of Thor's personality. It was everything that one would have expected from the heir to the throne, but surprisingly tidy for one that was used to throwing things upon the floor and having another remove them.

The only things out of place were the obvious items. Loki was fairly certain that the blond warrior was not the sort for incense sticks of a complex blend, ones that held scents only ever used for acts of consummation and brothel waiting rooms, and he was more than certain that the hundreds of lit candles were not something that Thor just happened to have 'lying around' as he would chain-mail or weaponry. He could feel the beginnings of a migraine from the low lighting and strong aromas, both of which were probably not the anticipated response if they were expecting him to swoon and fall into his husband's arms. The white furs of the bed were even decorated by red petals, which would more likely stain the furs than they would provide even an element of romance.

There laid a door on either side of the bed, with the left leading to the closet and then onto the dressing room, and the right leading to a bathroom that perhaps put Loki's to shame. He half-wondered if the servants had ran a bath for them, because there could be nothing more heavenly in that moment than a bath alone, but judging by the large and shallow bowl of oil on the bedside table . . . Loki breathed in deeply and tried to remind himself that most newlyweds would rather lounge in bed than bathe alone, but it was a thought that brought little comfort to him.

Loki merely closed the doors behind them and watched Thor rather indifferently. It seemed that – despite his accusations of Loki's immaturity – that the displays of romantic affection annoyed him more than his new spouse, and at once he had taken to trying to extinguish the candlelight and incense-sticks, which would take him far longer than it ought to otherwise have due to the sheer amount. Loki took the time to walk away from Thor and into the closet. There seemed to be very little else to do other than to check upon his belongings and clothing, because if he were to try and involve himself in putting 'their' room back to normal then he would likely break something in his rage. He _had _promised Thor that he would stay calm, after all.

"You said my clothes were already in the closet?"

"That or in the dressing room," Thor said a little too forcefully. "I imagine that they would be in the closet, but neither the servants nor our mother have told me anything. These changes were all made in my absence."

"I see, then may I ask if you have _always _owned so little clothing?"

Loki leaned against the doorway to the closet, which was slightly smaller than what his had been in his old rooms. The white colour scheme appeared to carry on inside the closet, with a mirror in every corner and a marble table in the centre, and yet Loki could only ignore the questionable décor for the question of how the space had been utilized. It seemed that three-quarters of the rails had been used for his various outfits, with almost all of the shelving being used for his helmets and accessories.

He heard Thor before he saw him, with his heavy boots thudding along the floor so loudly that Loki was sure that _this time _the temper tantrum would come from his new husband instead. Thor pushed Loki to one side; it was not done in a particularly cruel way, but done in the way he had done so brotherly in the past when a situation fell that he thought that Loki was not suited to, the way that said 'big brother is here to save to the day'. It was hard to imagine Odin pushing Frigga to one side in such a way, but Loki recognised that a millennia of ingrained habit was difficult to break. It would take time for Thor to treat him as a husband might.

"You had me worried that they had rid my clothing to make room for yours!" Thor exclaimed with a sound of relief. "I have never concerned myself too much about my attire, you should know this by now, Bro-! Husband . . ."

"I never knew that you were _this _limited in choices, however."

"Some of us do not need to plump and preen like peacocks to get attention." The smile on his lips spoke of a gentle teasing and a lack of malice. "I have enough to customise my basic suit of armour accordingly, what more do I need? If you wish to buy me more clothes in your spare time, I would not object at all."

"You can dress a pig in silk all you want, it will still be a pig," Loki replied with a heavy sigh. "What did you do with this space before my belongings were moved in?"

"I simply spread my clothing out. It made items easier to find."

"I give up. The dressing room is just ahead?"

"Unless it has moved."

Loki drew in a deep breath and marched into the closet. It took only a few moments to find a shelf dedicated to sleepwear, at which point he removed a long tunic to wear and made his way into the dressing room, closing the door behind him. The tunic was a simple affair, but green in a shade that was purposely designed to match his eyes and studded along the cuff for a fashionable effect, it was comfortable and would hide his body almost entirely. It seemed that the bright side to a political marriage was that when he slipped into something more comfortable it _was _comfortable.

He walked into the centre of the room and threw the tunic upon the long sofa, which backed onto a beautifully carved golden table. The top appeared to be a gold circle design within a metal triangular shape, with a golden and silver border dipping high and low around it, and when Loki gazed upon it he felt reminded of his childhood. He wondered if this room were perhaps an imitation of their mother's dressing room, where Thor and Loki had run and fought and played as children whilst their mother sought to dress them for ceremonies and for daily studies, and as he looked at the mirror-plated walls and intricate designs upon the floor he felt certain of that fact. It made Loki wonder if it was a choice of the architect or Thor to design the room in such a way, but nevertheless he appreciated its beauty.

The shutters had been closed for the night, so that the far wall of the room was no longer open to display the full landscape of their realm, and yet the darkness did not diminish the grandness of the room at all. Loki's only concern was that centre of all of this was a grand dressing table with an ornate mirror, one that was directly opposed the sofa, and he had to question what sort of person would _wish _to sit and watch another dress or prepare in the privacy of such a room. It felt voyeuristic. If he were to ever sit at such a table, he would certainly not want a man like Thor watching him from the sofa behind. It felt an invasion of privacy.

It took Loki longer than he would have liked to change outfits, but without servants to help him out of the ceremonial outfit it was to be expected. He left the clothing upon the sofa for the servants to move later, then cast a look to the mirror for some sort of reassurance on his appearance, but frankly Thor had seem him in far worse states than in simple nightwear. Loki knew that he didn't need to feel ashamed of being underdressed, not when he had been bloody and broken in past battles, but this felt quite different . . . this was – after all – his 'wedding night'.

'_Loki, are you quite done? There is still much to discuss!'_

Loki marched his way back to the door to the closet and opened it forcefully. It seemed that Thor stood on the other side with his hair now dishevelled and the plaits removed, and he had also chosen to remain bare-chested as he stood against the doorframe, albeit he had thankfully chosen to wear sleeping-bottoms that kept the important parts of his body hidden from sight. Loki marched past him and made his way into the bedroom, but stopped short at the bed.

"So . . . would you prefer the left or the right side?"

"I do not expect for us to share, Loki," Thor said, as he closed the door behind him. "The furs from your rooms should be in the boxes in the closet, I will use those and take them into the living-room. If you need me, I shall be on the sofa."

"You are serious, Thor? Are you _trying _to get me thrown back in prison?"

"I thought your privacy was what you wanted!"

It seemed that late nights, alcohol and stress combined to make a civil conversation impossible, not that sincere discussion had ever been common between the two even when they had once been brothers. The frustration on Thor's brow was evident, as much as the slight smell of sweat upon his body and the way his muscles seemed to flex with each clenching of his fists and arms, but Loki merely ignored that with a deep breath and tried to remain calm. It amazed him that his brother could show such growth and wisdom at times, but then dash those perceptions to hell with a shortsighted decision that could ruin all they had sacrificed so far.

"I want nothing more than for my own room," Loki said honestly, "but do you have _any _idea what will happen if you sleep in the living-room, if even for one night? Tomorrow the servants will come, they will see that you and I have slept in different places, and then they will talk amongst themselves about how scandalous it is for a married couple to fight so severely on their first night together. They will know then that the marriage has not been consummated.

"Then what if you make it a habit? They will see day after day after day that you have slept away from your bed, your _marital _bed, and then the gossip will spread around the entire realm and eventually mention of it will be made to your father. Do you think he will have any choice but to annul a marriage that is widely known to be a sham, a farce,_ an act_? You will be pressured into marrying someone else, likely Sif or another that has proven their worth; whereas I will be shoved back into my cell to rot until the day I die. You married me to save me, _Husband_. Will you cast me aside so quickly after all of this?"

"Loki, this is not appropriate! I cannot share a bed with you under the guise of two that are married! It is simply not done. Do you expect me to shake my feelings of brotherhood so readily? Even if it is platonic, I cannot share with my brother."

"What a sense of _déjà vu_," Loki spat. "Earlier you argued that a kiss was fine, so long as it was platonic, and yet now you will not even share a bed. We have shared dozens of times before. I remember only a few months before your banishment you falling into my room, telling me in a drunken stupor that Sif had wondrous _assets_ and that my eyes were like emeralds, and then you passed out for the entirety of twenty hours. I do not see how this is any different, unless you have somehow stopped snoring and releasing foul bodily odours in your sleep?"

It seemed that neither man could keep their anger in check. Loki had to acknowledge that he understood Thor's feelings, because they had considered each brothers since their very first memories, and so to be labelled now as a pair of newlywed spouses – with the same expectations that came with such a union – was quite a disturbing prospect. That was not to say that such feelings would be impossible, but Loki knew that they were impossible in that moment, and as such the romantic trappings about the room made the bed suddenly feel a much more intimate place than it ought.

The problem was that this _was _a political union, one that left no room for personal feelings or time for those feelings to change, and so it mattered not to the world what Thor and Loki considered each other as. They were no longer siblings. There was no blood between them, no acknowledgement of their bond from their father and ruler, and a great need to unite two kingdoms, two kingdoms to which each one stood for as a keen symbol in their own way. The world did not care that Loki and Thor had only just begun to dissolve their relationship as siblings, that only just were they coming to terms with what it meant to know the other as fellow men and not as a brothers, because to the world all that mattered was the marriage itself and what that entailed. There was no room for sentimentality. They had to be practical.

"I still do not think it the same at all," Thor snapped. "You are right though; even if this union is merely a political one, it must seem legitimate to outside eyes. I will take the right side. Would you remove the oil, Loki? I find it offensive."

"Really? I find that surprising from your reading materials."

"_Loki_, now is not the time!"

Loki waved a hand dismissively and walked over to the bed. He opened the door to the cabinet that sat as part of the bedside table, and then placed the bowl of oil inside, before he closed the door without so much of a second-glance. He made a large gesture of rising with a bow, his eyes locked dangerously upon Thor's as he did so. It was difficult for him not to watch with great curiosity every movement or expression that Thor made, because it seemed that his husband sought to hide a great deal many of emotions from Loki, perhaps in desperation to become the great king that their father planned for him to be, and Loki wanted to know what it was that he felt.

Their mother would chastise them for over-analysing those closest to him, but it felt the only way to learn his husband's feelings. Thor, it seemed, was no longer in the mood to discuss things further than they had, and so stormed his way around the bed in a rather clumsy manner, without looking Loki in the eye even once. It made him wonder why Thor felt so ashamed. Did he resent lying next to one that once was his brother, only just learning to sever those ties and see Loki as simply a man, or was it what Loki represented that disgusted him so?

Loki climbed into the bed and lay down onto his back, with hands upon his stomach above the furs, and felt a sudden sense of vulnerability at the position. He was aware that he could trust Thor with his life, that even when Thor had an easy chance to destroy Loki without consequence that he had never taken it, and yet it felt far different lying in such an exposed manner beside someone that was – for all intents and purposes – his husband. He knew the weight of such a title. He knew what society would believe had occurred between them, what the court would expect of them at formal and social events, and yet what was to happen behind closed doors . . . that was between Thor and Loki solely, something neither had yet to work out.

"I do not hate you, Loki," Thor said firmly.

Loki scoffed loudly at his words. They felt like a lie, because there was no way that such a man – full of honour and strength – could rest beside someone like Loki and sincerely mean them. Loki was still a prisoner, he was still a criminal, and he had treated his husband so cruelly that if Thor felt anything _other _than hate then he was to be pitied rather than admired. He held his tongue and said nothing as Thor crawled into bed beside him, albeit with a large distance between the two. The bed dipped quite a lot under Thor's weight and caused discomfort for Loki.

"I just wish that you would be honest with me," Thor confided. "You have a habit of saying one thing and yet meaning another. I have yet to meet any other man that can express a lie whilst telling the truth . . . when you told me that our father was dead, you did not lie, did you? I see now, you genuinely believed he was to die, but you expressed yourself in such a way as to hide your fear."

"Oh Thor, suddenly so perceptive. _Loki_ . . . always so afraid of being honest with his feelings, so terrified of rejection, that he has to word himself so carefully that no one ever takes him seriously. Yes, you really captured my personality so poignantly."

"See, you are doing it now!"

"Am I? I do apologise."

"Stop it! I mean it!"

"Stop what?"

Thor growled and threw himself onto his side, which jostled the bed and caused the furs to pull mostly over to his side. Loki abided it, mostly as it was quite a warm evening and he did not wish to fight his husband on such a trivial matter, but he could not help but think Thor's words over and over in his head. There was something painfully sharp about the other man's observations, something that he did not wish to admit, and something that irked him to no end and yet amused him all at once. He gave a smirk and rolled over to speak to Thor's back.

"You know that mother says to never go to sleep angry," Loki quipped.

"_Go to sleep, Loki_."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone who has reviewed :)

I can't say much about Loki's state of mind without giving away details, but I will say that the next two chapters will establish important changes in terms of the developing relationship and potential obstacles. I also thought that I would add that I hold no dislike towards Odin; he is one of my favourite characters, but that his portrayal is primarily based upon _Thor: The Dark World_.

**Chapter Seven**

Loki found it difficult to concentrate.

He sat upon the ledge with his legs outstretched, whilst he rested his back against the stone wall for support, and he would readily admit to it being quite a comfortable corner for him to hide within. The sun was bright, but the arches above him provided him with some shade, and the stone walkway to his left was empty and bare, with most of the palace's occupants otherwise engaged with training or simply avoiding the bright sunlight for other pursuits. It would have been peaceful.

The difficulty came from the 'blessing' known as marriage. It seemed that this particular courtyard was still considered 'out-of-bounds' for what had once been a war criminal, and so to sit in what had once been one of his favourite places to read now required the use of a chaperone, one that came in the form and shape of his husband. He was grateful to Thor for escorting him to the places he wished to visit, but there was a great frustration at being unable to wander freely as he once had. It was a constant reminder of the chains that now bound him. He had given up his cell for the binds of marriage, but with that came the illusion of freedom without the actual freedom itself. He looked free, he looked relaxed, but the truth was that he was bound to his husband's wishes and allowances.

It did not help that Thor was unable to endure silence or solitude. Thor was a man of action, so that even when he mourned or sulked he did so surrounded by the company of others, and to sit in silence – alone with only his thoughts – seemed to send the young warrior into a state of frustration. No sooner had Loki opened his book to the first page had Fandral, Volstagg and Sif joined his husband in the courtyard just to his right side, where the four split into two pairs, each one sparring as if this were a chance to train rather than a chance to relax. Then again, to spar _was _to relax to his husband and his primitive friends.

"You should join us, Husband!"

Loki rolled his eyes and turned the page. The sound of metal clashing against metal echoed loudly about the courtyard, which acted as an almost physical pain upon his ears, and every now and again he would hear grunts and pants and even strong curse words from those that fought. He wondered how long it would be until someone was hurt and taken to a healer, but more so he wondered if he would be forced to put his book down to follow said 'husband' to the healer. It would not do to leave one such as Loki unattended, after all. He would have to remember to take his book with him.

"I think not," Loki said coldly. "It would not be wise to allow me a sword, Thor."

"Come now, you do not think that you could hurt me, do you?"

"On the contrary, I do not think that I could refrain from doing anything else. It is tempting, I will give you that, but – _alas_ – I value what freedoms I _do _have too much than to risk them in some petty swordfight. Thank you, but I shall have to decline."

He heard Fandral let out a loud and rather mocking laugh. It caused Loki to tighten his hands upon his book in irritation, because regardless of his past he was still a prince, and he was still the husband to the heir of the throne. It was difficult to endure such mockery, but until he either proved his worth or wrestled back control then there was very little to be done about it . . . Fandral had every right to mock him. To such a man Loki was nothing more than a fallen warrior enduring his comeuppance.

Sif gave a shout for Thor to cease his distractions, whilst Volstagg appeared to launch a full attack onto Fandral in his moment of distraction, refusing to give warning in the way their female companion had, and so the sounds of battle commenced. There were occasional moments when Thor's sparring match would lead him close to Loki, enough that the young man actually had to pause reading with a sigh as a red cape would fall across the pages of his book, and he could only assume that the blond prince wanted attention of some sort. It was hard to picture what any other newlywed husband may have done in his place. Loki wondered if he were supposed to watch intently and cheer Thor on, because frankly he could think of nothing worse.

'_Thor, do not show off! You enable me to get the upper-hand!'_

'_Please! I am not yet giving it my all! It will take more than that to win against me!'_

Yes, it seemed that he was indeed attempting to show off. Loki had been rather used to it throughout the years, but it never ceased to amaze him how such a man could think that brute strength and battle strategy could ever be anything close to awe-inspiring. It wasn't that he could not appreciate the effort and dedication such a way of life required, especially when Thor himself could do things that no other warrior could, but he resented that such skill could be considered superior to sorcery, not least when one required far more talent than the other.

He closed his book with a silent sigh and glanced across the courtyard briefly, where he could see that that Thor fought well and with talent that Loki himself admittedly lacked, and the younger man regretted that his time imprisoned had taken from him his ability to train with the sword and with his fists. It was not easy to keep up with those around him, least of all without practise, and now . . . he had been forbidden from so much as owning a weapon, least of all to wield one. If word went back to Odin that Loki had been so much as _offered _the chance to merely hold a weapon, it would be likely that said person would be called forth and accused of treason to the crown and their realm. He was essentially powerless.

Thor clashed swords with Sif and then gave a furious spin to one side. He evaded her sword, but it caused him to enter centre of the sparring match that occurred beside him, which meant that he now was forced to dodge the attacks of two competitors as opposed to one. It meant very little to Loki, until – that was – he caught Thor's gaze and saw the amused smirk on the blond man's face. He was looking at Loki. He was fighting knowing that Loki watched. He was showing off . . .

"Your husband fights well," said a voice.

Loki looked to his left and saw Frigga standing with a smile. She was dressed in a beautiful blue gown, complete with a fur cape and muff, which struck Loki as unusual when the weather seemed so warm. He had spent so long in his cell in the dungeon that he still felt sensitive to changes in temperature; it was possible that the sunlight and clear skies were more deceptive than they felt, and so extra protection was necessary for a casual walk. The silver furred accessories suited her well.

He gave a sigh and sent a glance to Thor, who in turn cast a curious gaze back and seemed just distracted enough that Sif was able to land a hit that would have been perhaps fatal were the fight for real. Loki scoffed and held back a smirk. He knew that his mother would disapprove of his mockery, but luckily she spoke no word of it and merely stood beside the ledge with a grace and elegance that he envied, and as she looked out over the courtyard it seemed that her smile grew upon the sight of her other son. He admired her ability to feign interest in a sparring match, because it seemed that an ability feign interest was something that Odin lacked. She made it seem both easy and natural.

"I was just about to leave," Loki admitted. "There is little reason to stay."

"You would not stay for your mother's sake? I wish to linger here for a little while; if you are not in any rush, I would be very grateful for your company. It feels as if I have seen so little of you in the month since your wedding."

"That was no accident. It is no secret that I have barely left my rooms," Loki snapped as he adjusted the book in his lap. "That does, of course, mean I have had to endure countless rumours and comments about what that means for my relationship with Thor, but it is preferable than having to tolerate such mockery in person. I apologise, it was not my intent to avoid you in the process."

"I understand that you wish to shut out the world, my son, but you should know that you can not hide forever from what frightens you. Tell me, how is your relationship with Thor, is that at least going well?"

"It is going as well as could be expected."

Loki looked across the courtyard to Thor, but was unable this time to catch his eye. There was a part of him grateful for the fact that he finally free from the attentions of a man that annoyed him so greatly, but there was another undeniable part that felt somewhat slighted that he suddenly had lost his husband's attentions, because he felt that surely he had to be more interesting than any petty sparring match. He tore his eyes away with a sharp glare, but instead caught his mother's all-knowing stare and somewhat suspicious looking smile.

"Our relationship has improved enough that I might tentatively call it a 'friendship'," Loki admitted begrudgingly. "If you were hoping for anything more, you may be unfortunately disappointed. Our nights seem to be filled with my early retirement after reading, followed by Thor awakening me with drunken snoring after he slinks back to our rooms after evenings spent with the Warriors Three."

"What of your days together?"

"You mean when my darling husband isn't fighting in some faraway land, feasting with friends, or training with the men? Then it is spent like now, with us both occupying the same space and yet entertained by separate pursuits."

Loki raised the book in his hands just slightly, not enough to make a large point out of such an action, but enough that she could see that he had not agreed to leave his rooms solely to watch a sparring competition. It was difficult to get her to see that he had no interest to remain where he was for any longer, especially when she appeared to wear an amused and disbelieving smile, almost as if she could see something that he could not. He did not wish to know what it was that she saw.

He gave a sigh and looked back over the courtyard to see Sif knock Fandral to his knees and Thor onto his back, and he could not help but give a smile and admire her strength and her talent, particularly when it was used to shame his husband. It was a difficult situation for Loki to be in. On the one hand he felt almost castrated without his weapon or a chance to prove himself before Thor and the others, but he also felt far underdressed and far too casual before Frigga, who appeared as radiant as ever. He had not expected for there to be other people about, as such he had dressed as he would for a private reading in a quiet area, not as he would to socialise.

He wore simple black trousers and shoes, with a green tunic-styled top and sleeveless leather coat, but he had kept his hair immaculate and slicked back into his usual style, which – at least – led him to feeling somewhat less self-conscious than he otherwise may have done. It was a relief to have all his outfits at his disposal, rather than limited to what few were available to him within his cell, and perhaps because of this he felt more inclined to focus upon his looks than before. He had appeared shameful in his cell. He had lashed out on hearing of his 'choice' and his image suffered for it. He never wanted to appear that way again . . . bloody, broken, and dishevelled . . . he had relied too much on his illusions to keep the illusion of an indifferent man.

"That you would consider him a friend," Frigga said gently, "is an accomplishment in and of itself, perhaps more than you so realise. They say that love based upon friendship is a love built upon a solid foundation, a foundation that not many can boast, and so this is a feat that harbours good fortune for the future. You know that I love my husband as much today as the day that we met, but even I shall admit that we were lovers first and friends later."

"You seem to hold more hope for this relationship than the people within it," Loki said with a sarcastic smile. "Let me put it this way: it may be a _very_ long time before you can expect one named Thorson or Thorsdóttir to run about the palace grounds, Mother. Well, that is assuming that my husband hasn't any _extra-curricular _activities that I know not about. I dare say that I wouldn't be surprised."

"I dare say that I would be _very_ much surprised. Thor is an honourable man and a man of his word, and so he has taken his vows to you with a sincerity that is admirable for one that expects nothing but chastity from a platonic union."

"You forget that I am chained to Thor. He has the freedom that I do not."

"He would not abuse that freedom, Loki."

They were words that he longed to believe. The truth of the matter was that the marriage between them had been more or less forced, with Thor acting out of a desire to try and rescue what was once his brother, and Loki taking the first chance of escape that presented itself. The marriage itself had yet to change anything, with their relationship reverting to what it had once been before Thor's banishment, only with the added stress of sharing rooms and sleeping beside one another. It was far from perfect, but the centuries had taught them well how to deal with a bad situation.

Loki was glad that things could be surprisingly civil, even if their arguing had nearly brought them to blows on occasion, but he knew that in the back of his mind that Thor still held deep affection for a certain mortal. It was a difficult sentiment to express without being accused of jealousy, but the fact of the matter was that his feelings stemmed from self-preservation. Thor was entitled to his feelings; it was not as if Loki wanted anything from him other than eventual freedom, but the more that Thor pined for love and thought of another . . . it did not help that he had visited her twice this month alone. If word got out and Thor was accused of infidelity, the marriage would be annulled and Loki would be returned to his cells.

"You did not see the runes upon my shackles," Loki said in a voice both distant and saddened. "Thor brought me here muzzled like an animal, they then shackled me in chains and cuffs wrought with the same enchantment that brings Mjölnir to life, and it was he and he alone that held the power to release me. Nothing has changed, Mother, no matter how hard you wish for it. The only difference is that before my chains were visible, now they exist under the name of 'husband'. I am still a prisoner."

"Do you honestly mistake ties for chains?" Frigga asked with a sincere hint of concern. "You mistake duty for servitude and vulnerability for helplessness. I will admit willingly to owing my husband many a duty, to relying on him for so much, but do you really think that I do so out of force? Our marriage is one of compromise and mutual support, so all that I owe him he too owes me . . .

"I give to Odin all that I can, because I feel a love that compels me and a duty to which I cannot deny, and in return he gives me so much and more. I never worry that he will be unfaithful, I never fear that he may hurt me, because I have seen the way that his smile awakens at the sight of me, the tears he sheds when he sees my pain, and the way that he sacrifices his own happiness for my own. He broke all laws and conventions to keep you alive. He went against his own wishes to allow this marriage to take place. He did all that out of _love_. That is what marriage is about, my son.

"You may think me weak for serving the man I love, but I do not see a one-sided union, rather two souls that strive to support the other and create perfection out of chaos, two people that would willingly do all that they can for one another, even if the world may not see it. The only difference between my husband and I, as compared to Thor and yourself, is that I would willingly confess my heart and soul to the one I love, I would tell him my every fear and every doubt, and as such he can ease my concerns and give me closure. If you would trust Thor –"

"Then what? I find it difficult to believe that one heartfelt discussion would conveniently heal years of pain and frustration. It is enough that we have found means to be civil to one another, I refuse to jeopardise that by losing all the respect I have so far earned. I will not _humiliate_ myself only to humour you and Thor! He cares not for my feelings, only for those of his friends and Jane Foster."

"Intimacy is not the same as weakness, Loki."

Loki winced and drew in a deep breath.

He did not wish to get into a discussion concerning self-worth or potential fears of rejection, least of all in a place where Thor could potentially overhear, because it was not in his best interests to bare his feelings. He did not want his feelings used against him or purposely manipulated by another, especially because he would know that he had _allowed _them such a power over him if he were to willingly confess, and – whilst he knew that he could trust Frigga – he could not trust his ability to remain calm when faced with such difficult questions. He could not answer her.

The truth was that intimacy, to Loki, was the same as weakness. He could not imagine bearing his heart to someone; in fact his last memory of such a thing had been his father's rejection in the armoury, being told that he had been a pawn, his father losing consciousness, the belief he would die . . . it seemed that to bare emotion was to have it used against him, but to have emotion was to only allow grief to come to him. That was to say nothing of other sorts of intimacy, that required far greater levels of trust that were virtually impossible to achieve, and frankly he resented the insinuation that he was weak merely for expressing commonsense and trying to preserve the sanity that he had almost lost after his fall from the Bifrost.

It seemed that the sound of sparring had dimmed somewhat, with the sound of metal upon metal being replaced with laughter and loud conversation. Loki could make out talk of the matches, with what seemed to be criticism and praise from both sides, and it was obvious that they sought to improve each other's performance through the use of tips and complaints. He wondered if Thor would listen. The older warrior had not taken criticism well at one point in his past, but he had shown much growth as of late, he listened more and strove to become a better person. It was then that Thor caught the look of Loki's eye.

Thor placed a hand upon Volstagg's arm and gave a wave of acknowledgement to his other two companions, and when Sif questioned him he appeared to evade her with an answer that was both brief and somewhat vague. It was then he made his way over to the wall and ledge where Loki sat, where their mother stood in wait, and offered forth a brilliant smile that implied he had no knowledge of Loki's frustrations. He sheathed his sword and seemed oblivious to the way his friends watched him intently. It seemed that they still did not trust Loki around Thor.

"Loki! You should have fought, I could have done with real competition!"

"Real competition, is it?" Fandral burst out into laughter. "At our _last _count, Sif had you beat two-to-one! You should spend less time flirting with your husband and more time concentrating on the fight at hand! The honeymoon should be over with now!"

"You have never been married," Volstagg replied. "The romance is never just confined to the marriage bed, my friend! Any time your eyes meet you feel a love unlike any other, it has nothing to do with mere lust! Thor merely wants to show his best side in battle, to impress his husband, isn't that right, Thor?"

"Enough!" Sif drew her weapon and pointed it between them. "Thor is our prince and our friend, I will not have you mocking him for this unfortunate predicament. If you have something to say, say it with your fists or with your swords!"

"You think you can take on two men at once, do you?"

"No, but I do not see two men, only boys."

"Aha! Get ready then, _Lady_ Sif!"

Loki could not help but to smirk at the sight. It was just like those without the gift for words to settle arguments with fists instead, and indeed the two men were at once upon her and fighting with sincere vigour. There was no malice in their actions, their argument was nothing more than a play-fight borne of teasing and jesting, and indeed they seemed to accomplish more together now that Thor was out of the fighting than when he had been participating. His husband's showing off had slowed them down.

Thor ignored his friends with a slightly embarrassed smile, and then leaned upon the ledge with a slightly exaggerated gesture and a far too causal air. He looked up to their mother and nodded a greeting at her, then looked to Loki with a rather curious expression that could not be put into words, one that made Loki tempted to kick out his leg and strike Thor in the face, but . . . he could not act out in view of his mother. She wished for them to get on, to perhaps even find an impossible love in their morbid circumstances, and to lash out would cause her a great disappointment that Loki could not quite bear. Thor did not deserve to be kicked, but more so their mother did not deserve to be hurt by seeing them hurt.

"Are you sure you will not spar with me, Loki?" Thor asked kindly. "If you are still forbidden from wielding a weapon, we could fight with fists instead. It has been lonely with Hogun in Vanaheim, I could do with some extra company, that is if you think that you can hold you own against me after a month locked in our rooms with nothing but books!"

"I find it amazing that, even after knowing I prefer the company of an inanimate pile of paper to my own husband, you would think even for a moment that I would wish to spar with you. I am afraid that I shall have to decline. I have better things to do than pretend as if I have an interest in your life."

"Is that so? I noticed that you watched me fight, regardless of your lack of interest."

"I was simply _amazed _at your amateurish mistakes, Husband."

"Then will you not teach me a thing or two?"

Loki clenched his hands around the spine of his book. He disliked Thor's latest tactic of trying to _provoke _him into spending time together, not least because it detracted from Loki's established routine and personal interests, and yet for the past four weeks it seemed that his husband insisted upon 'quality time' to maintain their image of a close marriage to the public. Luckily, due to Thor's vast amount of time in battle and training, their time together consisted mainly of sleep, the occasional shared meal, and silence as Loki read and Thor tried to stave off his boredom. It was the first time that he had challenged him to a fight, however, which seemed a foolish choice given Loki's immense anger that had yet to be resolved.

It was difficult to ignore the dark expression that Thor wore, almost as if he were both offended and yet somehow curious at once. The narrowing of his eyes indicated that he was greatly displeased with Loki's reaction, whilst the sincere smile on his mouth showed a genuine desire to spend time with the other, and the complexity of such emotions left Loki rather suspicious. Thor simply was not capable of depth, but even if he were the question remained how a man could feel both displeasure with another and yet a desire to also spend time with him.

Loki found himself interested in what it was exactly that Thor wanted, because the other man clearly did not seek romance and yet also espoused clear opinions that he could not trust Loki in the slightest. He sat up properly and abandoned his slight slouch, and as he sat up straight he crossed his legs and gave a smirk that showed his curiosity in the matter well. He could see Frigga's warning stare as he sat and waited for Thor to speak, as well as the anger increasing on Thor's brow as he saw that his husband was taking this less than seriously, and he was certain that he could hear the sounds of sparring grow further away, almost as if Sif – sensing something dangerous to come – purposely led her friends away to give the two spouses some privacy.

"There is nothing I could teach you," Loki said coldly, "that your brain could possibly hope to retain. I would not go against you in a fight even if I were promised my freedom in return, it simply would not be worth it."

"I find it amazing, Loki, that – even after all this time – you are still so cowardly when it comes to battle! I wonder if you are afraid to face an opponent head-on, rather than hiding behind illusions and deceit. You walk away so often that your backside has become more memorable than your face!"

"Whilst I am honoured you would consider my backside worth remembering, I would ask that you keep your insults to yourself. I am _far_ from a coward! If I do not battle an enemy that I _know _has me at a distinct disadvantage, I would like to think that to be a display of intellect rather than cowardice. Do you wish for my attention? Is that it? You are like a child that believes that unless it is constantly watched that it is unloved! I do not see why it should be my duty to humour you! Go to your friends to fight."

"I am tired of fighting with you, Loki! Is this how you envision our future?"

Thor smashed his fist down hard enough on the ledge that it caused Loki to jolt slightly, enough that it made him worry that perhaps the wall upon which the ledge sat would break underneath him. It caused an almost imperceptible wince to pass across Frigga's face, as if their barbs caused her a form of physical pain that broke into her heart and caused her to despair. There also came a brief moment of silence from the three fighting, as if they paused to make sure that no harm had come to Thor, but in an instant their fight continued and the only other sound that Loki could hear came from his husband's heavy and forced breath. Thor's face had reddened and his blue eyes seemed to bore holes into Loki's soul.

"I know that many things have changed between us," Thor said coldly, "but I refuse to spend the rest of my life arguing with you and fighting with you over every little thing! I know that the man I once knew still exists within you; I have seen him in these past few weeks, when he has bickered at me with a brotherly love and spoken to me with great civility. Why do you insist on then making things more difficult than they need be? Do you hate me that much, Husband?"

"I hated you once," Loki admitted, as he looked away from Thor. "I do not hate you now, but nor does that mean that I shall fall at your feet or exist solely to warm your bed. I do not know what you want from me, Thor! You long for the brother you lost, treat me as you would a friend, but then yearn for my attention like a jealous husband seeking validation from his spouse! Do you honestly blame me for resenting you?"

"Then you wish to define our relationship in clearer terms?"

"This is not a relationship! This is a sham of a marriage and a twisted way of imprisoning a prisoner without shackles! I will not deny it would be nice to know what it is that you want from me, but for now I would settle for a _status quo _of what we had. I would rather the tentative friendship that allows us to pursue our individual interests, rather than for you to so _selflessly _allow me entry to the courtyard only for you to just _happen _to spar with your friends in the _loudest _way possible. I only wish that I could resort to trickery, it would give me some escape."

"Ah, so it's 'trickery' now, is it? I thought that you objected to that word."

"They are _my _'tricks', unlike you I can call them whatever I like."

"You are _my _husband, I can call you what I like, J-!"

'_Enough. You will be silent_.'

Frigga did not raise her voice. She did not need to. The tone that she used was firm and authoritative, the sound of a mother that sought to chastise her children out of love and to instil a sense of discipline in them, and there was not so much as a hint of frustration in her voice, despite all that she must have felt. Loki knew that there was no room left for argument, not lest they insult her presence and disobey her command, and he respected her far too much for that. She only wanted what was best for them.

There was a part of Loki that wished that she hadn't intervened, because he wanted nothing more than to know what it was that Thor had been on the verge of saying, but it was clear that it would have been something cruel or childish. He suspected that she cut him off mid-sentence for a reason. She interrupted so that Thor would not say something that could not be forgiven, so that their unstable friendship would not be destroyed completely by something said in the heat of the moment, and he could not fault her for that. It was simply that this would only postpone their arguing, it would not put a stop to it, and even if it did . . . she could not be around them all of the time to put a stop to every last disagreement that occurred. They would eventually have to learn to resolve their own arguments.

Thor did not look his mother in the eye. He appeared to be too embarrassed to be caught in the midst of a long-standing sibling rivalry, as if they had barely grown at all in the past few centuries, and just to see the faint blush upon his cheeks was enough to make Loki smirk to himself. The truth was that they were 'friendly' for want of a better term, that they did strive to improve their relationship, but a lifetime of childish bickering was hard to break, and it was amusing to see a grown man revert to a mere child before his mother's wrath. It felt a good comeuppance.

She took a step forward and gave a stern look in turn to Loki and then to Thor, with her blue eyes softened into a look of disappointment. The fur about her shoulders and hands seemed to stand out so brightly in contrast to the rest of her attire, enough that it thankfully gave Loki something to focus his gaze upon other than her face, whilst Thor merely seemed to stare at the floor like a petulant child. It was then that she stepped towards the ledge and reached out over it, with her hand now removed from the fur muff and outstretched to her eldest son, whose cheek she touched with such kindness that her love seemed to speak through the gesture. Loki winced.

It was then that she turned with a sad smile and reached out to Loki in the same way. He felt her warm hand on his cheek, he even felt his hand unclench upon the book that he had not even realised his fist had tightened upon, and he felt his eyes watery as if out of an instinct he had not even been aware of. There was a relief unlike any other that she had remembered him, too, because for one brief moment he had thought that she had chosen Thor over him . . . she returned to her hands to the muff and sighed.

"Is this what you would call friendship? Is this to you what a union of two souls means?" Frigga asked firmly. "I have seen the way that you look to each other for support and reassurance. I have seen the way that you seek out the other's gaze when the gaze of any other would do, and the way that when you talk to each other that you do so with a greater honesty and sincerity than you do to any other. There is love there. It is always difficult to recognise the signs of love, unless you have already experienced it, but trust one that has lived longer than she care admit . . .

"It may be difficult for you to acknowledge, and perhaps it is that your love is not romantic, but instead a platonic love so deep and meaningful that it seems like more to one that wishes only for the greatest of happiness to fall upon you, for one that knows the only chance at love in an already existing marriage will come solely from one another. I know that you have had moments of civil companionship, but those moments will fast become meaningless if your most powerful memories are ones of anger and distrust. It takes a hundred words of love to erase but one word of hate. I will leave you to think about what is more important: your image or your happiness."

"Mother, I care nothing for my image," Thor snapped. "It is Loki that thinks that by insulting me that he can keep his indifferent image and regain some control! I have done nothing put his interests first!"

"_My _interests? Do you see this book here? You have read just as much of it as I have in the last twenty minutes! It is _you _who felt it so necessary to distract me, you are nothing but a selfish and whining prince, desperate to put me in my place!"

"Jealousy becomes neither of you," Frigga said sadly.

Frigga's words suddenly felt dark. There was seriousness to her expression that forced both men to look at her with their full attention, as if she had somehow ended her thoughts midway and left them awaiting a resolution. It also felt as if she had placed a dagger to Loki's heart, because there was something about her words that felt both humiliating and yet oddly perceptive, as if she had seen something that both men would rather forget and leave unexplored.

Did Loki envy Thor? It was not a thought that he would wish to explore in depth. He could not deny that everything Thor had done whilst they were brothers had been irritating and often idiotic, to the point where it felt as if his every action towards Loki was borne out of merciless teasing or patronising affection, and were his actions concerning the realm stemmed from personal feelings and impulsivity. He had not envied him in those moments, instead he had pitied him and spent his every moment trying to save his brother from himself and secretly alerting their father to Thor's schemes to prevent them from falling in harm. It was different now, but he would admit that even then Thor had not been _completely _without merit.

He had been the favourite child for a reason. He was incredibly strong and more intelligent than many gave him credit for, with an ability to learn from mistakes and adapt his strategies in future situations, and yet it did not seem as if Frigga meant to imply he envied his husband's talents. It had been a mere month, only just were they learning to become friends and still Loki held an immense pain that he could not erase, and yet she seemed to see something else, something that he could not. It seemed as if she thought they craved one another's attention and validation.

"I will take my leave," she said sadly, "but _please _play nice."

Frigga leaned down to Loki to place a kiss upon his forehead, before she acted the same with Thor and gave them both a warm smile. In the distant part of the courtyard there could be heard the sound of laughter and swordplay, with the three warriors still competing despite their exhaustion and perhaps waiting for their friend's return in the process, and suddenly the day felt more natural and at ease than it had felt since the day of his imprisonment. It was almost as if things were back as they once were. Frigga walked away and left the two men to their own conversation . . .

"If I apologise," Loki said coldly, "will you leave me alone?"

"I care for you too much to abandon you now, Loki."

"How chivalrous. If you care for me so much, then why is it that you have been visiting a certain Jane Foster as of late? I am no fool, Thor, I know that you have been spending time with her upon Midgard."

"Oh, so this is jealousy after all? Who told you of this?"

Loki rolled his eyes and swung his legs over the side of the ledge. It was difficult to remain calm, but he had to remind himself that if he were to act with any perceived violence then it would end badly for him, because if Thor's friends did not jump to his defence then it was certain that the many guards around the perimeter of the courtyard would. He stood up next to Thor with a dark smile, placed his book on the ledge, and tried to keep as calm as he possibly could.

It was difficult to be accused of jealousy so often, because the truth was that his feelings stemmed from self-preservation. There could be denying that he felt some affection to Thor, after all there was still a deep brotherly love between the two and they were forced to endure living in close quarters, but to be _jealous _was something that was quite alien to Loki. He would not begrudge his husband time spent with other people, because time spent with others was less time spent disturbing Loki from his solitude, but to spend it with _Jane_ . . . a known love interest . . . it was to court disaster. If rumour fled that Thor was engaged in some sort of affair, it would cause problems for their marriage. That was the extent of his feelings.

"I paid a guard to follow you and speak to Heimdall on my behalf."

"Is that right? It seems that once we were married that the label of 'spouse' has caused you to act differently, Loki, and I think that perhaps your desire for clearer terms of our relationship is due to your pondering upon what this marriage means for us and your potential feelings regarding it."

"Yes, you have read my mind," Loki sneered. "I love you so unconditionally that the moment the ceremony ended I was forced to revaluate my feelings, and now any time that I see you with another I feel as if my heart is cleft atwain, it is as if you betray me with every glance or every word sent to another other than me. _Grow up, Thor__! _One of us must be pragmatic here! You cannot be seen gallivanting about with your crush! If word gets out that you are romantically tied to another then –"

"Jane Foster has been ill," Thor said coldly.

Thor ran a hand through his hair. He left his hand upon his neck for a long moment, whilst his gaze turned to his friends as if seeking some sort of support or acknowledgement, and the only look he received in turn was Sif's brief look of concern. It was only when he looked back to Loki that the younger man could see the fear and concern written across his husband's face. Thor had paled considerably and when he allowed his hand to drop he did so with a sad smile, so that it seemed as if the very act of smiling had become a chore to him. Loki would have felt guilty, but it was difficult to feel that way when he knew Thor had been lying to him.

"It has been a fortnight since she has felt concern," Thor explained gently. "I believe it may be serious, but the past week has confirmed it so. Heimdall alerted me to her situation and I have been there to offer her emotional support between my battles in the other realms and my time spent with you. You should know that – despite my love for her – I have been sure never to spend time with her unsupervised. I have not broken my vows to you. You can trust me."

"You expect me to trust you? Thor, I have loved you more than any other, you were my brother and my friend, and now – despite my wishes – you are my husband, but you _must _face facts! Your dedication to this woman is admirable, but if you keep up these visits -! Fine, do you _want_ me to return to my cell? _Then carry on, Thor_! Carry on and see what happens!"

"Loki, I am sorry that my actions have caused you grief, but my intention was not to hurt you! I could not tell you about my visits to Earth, for you would tell Mother and she would tell Father. I would be forbidden from such travels within an instant!"

"Ah, so _there _is the trust you talk so much about!"

"Loki, I -!"

Thor wrung his hands and turned his back to Loki. The only sound appeared to be the sound of Thor's heavy breathing and the distant murmurings of Sif and Fandral, almost as if the two had much to say and yet daren't say it. He knew what they were thinking, the insults and the judgements cast upon him, but he also knew that so long as Thor stood in earshot that they would not say a word against him, or at least not a word that he would hear. They appeared to be watching him intently.

It was then that Thor gave a low sigh and turned his gaze back to Loki, although his expression was a lot softer than Loki had anticipated. It was almost as if the anger had left him in that single breath, the relief he felt almost physical and undeniable, and in his blue eyes Loki thought that he saw a glimmer of hope that perhaps his husband wasn't completely oblivious to the problems between them. Thor then gave a smile. In that instant any ideas that Loki had about his husband's sense of seriousness and understanding were dashed, and he saw that it was merely Thor's boundless optimism that pushed him forward and into patience.

"You are right," Thor admitted heavily, "I do not and can not trust you, but I _do _love you and would not see you hurt. Mother is right, we need to find some middle ground. I have done sparring for now. Would you do me the honour of eating with my friends and I? There is much to discuss."

"I do not feel as if _you _have the right to be the mature one here," Loki said with a slight smile. "_I _was the one that they planned to be your advisor and right-hand man once you ascended the throne. I think that entitles me to be the bigger man."

"Then you shall eat with us? I shall make sure that Fandral holds his tongue."

"You would have to cut it out first."

Loki gave a smile and tried to remain calm. He could not deny to feeling somewhat peckish, and without Thor there would be no way that he would be allowed access to the food hall outside of set mealtimes, so there seemed little reason to fight him on the matter. The only alternative would be to read alone in his rooms, but after a month of solitude something told him that it would be good to mingle and socialise with the rest of the palace . . . it was possible he could learn something more in the process.

"Very well, but do not think yourself forgiven, Thor."

"So long as neither do you, then of course."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone that has reviewed :)

Apologies, but the next chapter may be a couple days late due to severe stomach flu.

**Chapter Eight**

"You know, of course, that _we _will get the blame . . ."

Fandral paced before the fire rather like a man possessed. It was clear that he was worried and somewhat frustrated, but that those feelings were also exacerbated by a sense of helplessness. His hand twitched upon the hilt of his sword, a reflex so ingrained into him that it became an instinctual reaction to any stress, and as he walked he kept his head somewhat low and his stride wide. Sif knew that look well from so many years in battle. He wanted to leap into action.

It was an understandable reaction, because they were born warriors and people of action, their blood was there to be spilt and to spill that of others in turn, and to be forced to sit . . . to wait . . . it was a sin unlike any other. They were used to resolving issues in an instant, they believed that to die in battle was to achieve an honour unlike any other, and those who sat were those too cowardly to fight. There was an important issue that needed to be resolved, but when there was no enemy to fight or a battle to be won then their options were limited. They could do nothing but wait. In time they would receive word of what was occurring outside of their reach, when they could possibly act and potentially help, but until then there was nothing to be done.

"They cannot blame us," Volstagg interrupted, "we hardly have power over a prince!"

"We are his closest friends and allies! Do you really think for a moment that they will believe that we had no knowledge of it? They will think that we kept such things from the Allfather! They will think we lied! He tells us everything!"

"Not everything, it seems," Sif snapped.

Fandral stopped before the fire and gazed into it as if trying to divine some fortune, whereas Hogun merely sat upon one long sofa in complete silence, a gift that Sif envied him for in that moment. They needed to follow his example. If they could just spend a few moments thinking about the best course of action, if they could simply sit and meditate instead of floundering and cursing, then perhaps they could decide upon a useful course of action. They were of no help to Thor as they were.

The fire in the centre of their chambers had been kept aflame all night, which had caused great distress to the servants that had wished to retire instead of being retained needlessly for restless warriors, and even as the sun rose – warming the rooms – the fire continued to blaze. It lit the room in colours of gold, crimson and hints of orange, whilst above it the horned ornamental frame grew warm under its duty to extract the smoke, and the room itself had begun to feel stiflingly hot. The shutters had opened over an hour ago to allow inside natural light, but still the three sofas around the fire felt dark and oppressive. Hogun sat upon the left, Volstagg upon the right, and Sif herself in the middle. They each had their place.

Sif was grateful that the triangular positioning of the sofas led to an atmosphere conducive to conversation, but at the moment there was nothing to say and nothing that could be said that would fix their situation. They had thought about following Thor through the Bifrost, but that would only make them accessories to the crime and likely to fall under the Allfather's wrath, which would have been an acceptable risk if not for the fact that there was nothing to be done to help Thor. The only question now was whether to wait or to bring him back by force.

"Well, I suppose we ought to bring him back," Volstagg said.

"Do you think that wise?" Fandral asked.

"Of course! If the Allfather gets wind of this, he might be forced to annul the marriage, then where would we all be? Our queen would mourn the loss of her son, whereas Thor would be simply miserable, and – worst of all – we would have been forced to attend the ceremony all for nothing!" Volstagg laughed loudly and shook his head. "Although, I shall say this: the food was magnificent!"

"You and your stomach! This is not the time to be thinking with your appetite! The food at the first wedding will be just as tasty as the second or the third or the fourth! The question is whether you would allow the first to be annulled in order _to find out_, because even a fool could tell that an annulment would be an unwise option!"

"Here I thought you _wanted _an annulment," Sif said scathingly.

Sif folded her arms and sent Fandral a dark stare. It wasn't that she harboured ill feelings towards her comrade, but simply that she disliked the manner in which he could change his tune so quickly. It was understandable, for before there had been no real threat to the _status quo_ and so jesting about the situation was to be expected, but now there was a real threat to all and so it was a time for seriousness. They could not mock or tease any longer, because they would lose everything if they did so.

He gave her a rather curious look in return, one that caused her to give a half-smirk to show that she meant no maliciousness to her words, but instead her smile only served to make her look more dangerous. It seemed to give the impression that she was merely waiting for a reason to attack, rather than patiently awaiting a response from a good friend. He luckily knew her well, and so – as she sat with arms draped across the back of the sofa and legs crossed at the ankle – he sensed from her a non-confrontational need for answers, and he responded in kind. He ran a hand through over his beard and used his other hand to clench upon his sword hilt.

"I _wanted _that our friend had never married to begin with," Fandral replied a little coldly. "He could have become king, married well, and had a brood to put even Volstagg's to shame. The problem is that Thor is a _prince_. He has never had the same freedoms that we have taken for granted! He was forced into this political union to appease his mother and delay an oncoming war, and now that he has he is stuck with Loki until the day that one of them dies."

"An annulment would solve that," Hogun said.

"I don't think it would be worth all that it would bring with it. Jotunheim is simply biding its time for an attack; if we throw one of their princes back into the dungeon, it'll be just the excuse they need to attack us! The Nine Realms are in disarray, we can't afford to waste time and men on such a battle, and that isn't to mention the fact that our queen would perhaps die of a broken heart. Two months – _just two months _– into the marriage and Thor is visiting his mistress on Midgard! What is he thinking? If we go to retrieve him then all eyes will be upon him, the Allfather will know where Thor has gone and why, and he –"

"Do you honestly think that the Allfather does not already know of where his son has gone?" Sif asked. "Heimdall is sure to have told him. If we are lucky then Odin Allfather will merely forbid all usage of the Bifrost for Thor."

"I just don't understand what Thor is thinking."

Sif held her tongue and gazed into the fire.

The truth was that Thor had been something of a mystery to her since their return to Asgard almost two years ago, where every moment not spent in battle seemed to be a moment when he would be lost in grief over Jane Foster. It had been almost heart-breaking to see a man usually so filled with energy reduced to a mournful shell, where even in the midst of a party or feast he seemed to be holding in great pain, and for a while she had wondered if anything would bring him back to them.

She would not lie, for – like Odin – she had wished that perhaps he would turn his attentions to her, but he was her friend first and foremost, so as long as he found happiness then she would not begrudge him for where that happiness was found. There could be no denying that Jane had changed him considerably. It was those changes that gave him the maturity to listen to his mother when she had suggested a political union as a means to save Loki, the strength to consider such an option and visit Loki as he pondered upon it, and even the wisdom to enjoy the wedding for what it was instead of focussing on what it could have been. It was what gave her hope that – perhaps – Thor knew what he was doing.

"Thor must know the risk that he takes visiting Jane Foster," Sif said carefully. "We must trust in him that he does so out of necessity, that he does not seek to jeopardise the fragile peace of our realm."

"I hate to say it," Fandral asked in turn, "but what of Loki?"

"What of him?"

"He has become somewhat _bearable _as of late, but he makes no attempt at hiding his displeasure with the situation or his contempt of the court. Still, he seeks to end the marriage _only_ once his freedom is secured and assured. I cannot see him permitting any kind of action that would threaten his marriage or what little freedom he currently has, after all he wants to return to the dungeons just as much as we want him in our company. You have to wonder why he has allowed this."

"Ha, you do amuse me, Fandral!" Volstagg laughed and slapped his thigh. "Do you think that Loki has any say in Thor's life whatsoever? He would have to beg to get Thor's attention, but even then Thor would not bow to his whim without reason!"

"Then perhaps we could ask Jane to turn Thor away?"

It seemed as if Fandral actually considered this to be an idea. He took long and confident strides to the sofa upon which Hogun sat, and then fell down gracefully beside him. The flames of the fire and rising sun cast strange shadows on his face, that only served to make him appear older and wiser than he actually was, and as he gazed off into the fire he pursed his lips slightly and seemed to move his head almost imperceptible to unheard words and an unseen sight.

Sif turned her gaze to Hogun, but it seemed that he was determined not to give away one single hint as to his feelings, which irritated Sif more than she dare say. He was often the one with the soundest ideas and best solutions, but at the moment his silence seemed to say what all of their words could not, which was that there was no easy solution to their problem. Thor and Loki could not be separated before Loki proved both his trustworthiness and his loyalty to their king, and whilst Thor's actions put their bond at risk they could do nothing to stop it. Thor was the only person who could prevent such risks. He was the only one who could stop such visits.

She looked to Volstagg, as if in the desperate hope that he would be able to provide something new to the conversation, but he had set his mind upon retrieving Thor, which was something that they could not do without forcing all eyes upon the prince. It was then that she tried to focus upon Fandral's question. It was a difficult one to answer, for even as she looked at him she could see the sincerity and curiosity written across his features. There could be no real way to answer him without giving some offence, but it was unavoidable.

"And say what?" Sif snapped. "Thor says that she is sick, as such he will visit her regardless of what we or anyone else says. He may have ended his romance with her the moment that he began his betrothal to Loki, but he is still her friend and he still holds love for her, as such he will not abandon her. She could curse his very name and he would not turn his back on her!"

"Then what would you have us do?"

"We must wait," she continued. "If we are lucky then Thor shall return to us without incident. We will discuss with him what consequences his actions have, and perhaps we can prevent him from continuing in this manner . . . he will listen to his friends."

"You do not know that –"

Fandral stopped and stood quickly.

He did not finish his sentence, but the way that he refused to speak at all also indicated that he had very good reason not to risk speech, because to finish it would be to say something that he would regret. He stood as one would to mark respect to a social superior, but he also angled his body towards the door in such a way as to suggest an intruder had interrupted their domain without right, and his hand tightened upon his hilt with great force.

Sif stood and turned to look in the direction he faced. She noticed the way that Hogun half-stood from the corner of her right eye, whereas Volstagg merely leaned forward in her left, and as she gazed straight on – hands clenched at her sides – she saw that someone had indeed entered their room. It was simply that she had not expected to see Loki without his husband accompanying him. The younger prince made it clear that he found it a displeasure to be around the Warriors Three, not to mention that the feeling was quite mutual, and for the past two months since his marriage he had only ever left his rooms to visit his mother or to walk the palace grounds with Thor. It was suspicious indeed that he would visit Sif and the Warriors Three of his own accord, especially in Thor's absence. She felt ill at ease.

He stood looking somewhat smaller than she remembered, almost as if he sought to make himself disappear, and on either side of him – beside the doorway – stood a guard to chaperone him and prevent him from mischief. His hair had grown somewhat, slicked back and smoothed down, and his expression seemed somewhat mournful compared to his usual smirk of confidence and arrogance, so that Sif would have worried if she had been closer to the man. It seemed that he had dressed in his usual attire; leather trousers, leather tunic accentuated with gold, and an ankle-length coat lined with dark green. The question was why he was there.

They watched Loki darkly with great interest. It was true that his presence had been somewhat bearable as of late, but they had only so far to tolerate his presence in the company of Thor, who insisted upon 'quality time' with both his husband and his friends, and without Thor they had no idea what to expect. She found it hard to believe that Loki would hold his tongue without his husband present, not that Thor's presence had done much to ease the disdain in the other man's expression.

"I'm not interrupting something, am I?"

Sif felt her hand edge to her sword as Loki spoke. It was difficult not to raise her sword to him, but she had to remind herself that the guards would soon arrest her if she did, not to mention that Thor would be outraged were his friends or husband to harm each other in any way. Loki had not been particularly rude as of late, but that did not mean that she appreciated his intrusion at such an inopportune time. It was difficult to tell just how much Loki knew, but – even though it did directly concern him – she did not wish for his participation in the conversation.

"Not at all, Loki," Volstagg exclaimed. "We were merely talking."

"Is that so?" Loki asked. "Then you will not mind if I stay for a while, surely?"

"You have every right to be here as the Prince Consort."

Loki looked to the others as if for confirmation. The only response he seemed to receive was an absolute silence, with Volstagg's words lingering in the air as a reluctant allowance more than a polite invitation. Sif turned her gaze around to the fire and sat down, reluctant to turn her back upon their new guest and yet unable to stand for much longer, meanwhile her friends sat down and kept their gaze stern and cold upon Loki as he walked forward.

Loki slowly walked forward. He kept his head low and looked from the corner of his eyes at the others, almost as if he felt unable to lower his guard around those he felt a threat to him, and when he sat he did so beside Volstagg, the one of them most forgiving and most understanding. He did not lean back, nor did he relax his stance, instead he sat upon the edge of the seat with his legs parted slightly, and his hands steepled in his lap. No one spoke. Sif was aware that neither parties knew what to say to one another, but she was also aware that someone would need to break the silence in order to proceed. To her surprise it was Hogun who spoke.

"I knew that you could not be trusted."

"You're still harping on about _that_?" Loki said in an eerily calm voice. "I _love _Thor dearly, but we all know that he was not ready to become king. He led us into a battle that _I _tried to prevent by confessing to the guard, by trying to stall Heimdall . . . did you even stop to think what would have happened if I had not? Fandral would be dead right now. We all may have died that day."

"You were always jealous of Thor," Sif interrupted. "You may have started with good intentions, but your actions were treasonous. You allowed intruders into our realm, you set the Destroyer onto your brother, and then you chose to risk death on the off-chance that your knowledge of hidden realms may save you."

"You forget the war he started in Midgard," Hogun said.

"I was getting to that."

Sif let out a heavy breath.

She had not been aware of how tense she had been until that moment. There had been a great relief in finally being able to speak her words freely to Loki, for the others to have that chance to do the same, because since his incarceration they had no chance to confront him or to even hear his defence. No one had visited him aside from Frigga whilst he was imprisoned, then since his release he had hid himself away and had only recently begun to 'socialise' at the request of his husband.

They had seen Loki many times during this past month, but he had been quiet and merely watched them as they ate together or trained together, seemingly saving his words for his mother or his husband in the privacy of the royal rooms. Sif had spoken to Loki occasionally upon trivial matters, but any serious talk – talk of Thor's banishment or of the attack upon Midgard – had been silenced before it had a chance to sincerely begin. Thor had stood in the way of such discussions. He was determined that Loki was not to be upset by such sensitive subjects, but nor was Loki to insult or ridicule his friends with his quips or comebacks, and as such neither party had yet the chance to resolve their issues or come to a truce.

"You treated us worse than we would treat our enemies," Sif stated coldly. "I have acted towards you with respect due to your marriage to our prince, but I cannot accept you into our fold as a friend in his absence."

"I would expect nothing less," Loki replied. "Thor seems to live under the delusion that you were _our _friends, but we all know that was never the case. You tolerated my presence. You were always Thor's friends first and foremost, whereas I was always the one that was forced to tag along, and _you _would have been happier had I stayed within the palace and not once troubled you or your group."

"I did not trust you, Loki, but it seems that I was right not to trust you. It will take time for you to regain what little trust you once had, for us to welcome you as fully as we once did, and perhaps in time we can come to call you friend also, but until then I have nothing more to say to you. Why are you here?"

"I thought that my husband might be with you."

Loki cast a look into the flames. It seemed that he was eying the healing stones for a moment, almost as if he remembered the last time he sat in these rooms and saw those stones in use, and the way that – even then – he had stood on the boundaries as an outsider who did not quite fit in. Sif could not find it within herself to feel sorry for him. It was difficult to pity one whose pain was entirely self-inflicted, who seemed to relish in misery the way they many would savour a good battle.

He had never quite opened up about his feelings, he would always choose to play pranks or cause mayhem to hide his pain or slights, and as such he had alienated all of those that were not directly related to him. She could only hope that he had learned from his mistakes, from the deaths and the wars, and that perhaps he would make amends and grow closer to the people whose company he craved. He had seemingly befriended Thor well in these past two months, but that had not lessened his acidic tongue or prevented him from making cruel comments. There were those that said Loki sort to push his loved ones away to prevent a rejection, but Sif merely saw someone who sort to punish others for his predicament via a childish tantrum.

Still, she could not deny the faraway look in his eyes, or the way that he seemed oddly disjointed from the reality around him, and he appeared to cling to something within himself – a hope, a belief, perhaps a dream – that stood as the only grip he had upon his sanity at all. She wondered if it were his chance at redemption that he saw, that he wished for so strongly that he would finally play nice and strive to befriend his husband once more, and perhaps with Thor gone he saw that chance slipping him by . . . perhaps he saw what he stood to lose, at last.

"I grew bored in my rooms," Loki said carefully. "I thought that I would converse for a while with my husband, but – _alas_ – it seems that he is missing once more. He tells you all that happens to him. I want to know _why _he feels compelled to leave so."

"I _told_ you that we would get the blame," Fandral muttered.

"We have done nothing wrong," Volstagg interrupted. "Loki is not trying to blame us, are you, Loki? He merely misses his husband and wants answers. I don't think we can fault him for that, after all if I were in his shoes then we would be the first people I would come to for answers. It is just unfortunate that we know as little as Loki does."

"I know full well that he has been visiting his mistress down in Midgard," Loki said all too coldly. "He and Mother claim it to be platonic, but if that were the case then he would not need to see her so often! I have held my tongue and acted like a dutiful spouse, but still he acts as if he were not married at all! I wantto know is why it is that he still visits her when he knows what it is he risks!"

"Perhaps _you_ are the reason he leaves," Hogun said coldly.

Loki gave an almost imperceptible wince. He leaned back upon the seat and folded his arms across his chest, and as Sif looked to him – the morning sun now bright and breaking over the horizon – she saw something dark in his expression beyond just jealousy or arrogance. It was a hard look to decipher, but she saw in his eyes a sense of self-pity and regret. The look was only there for a moment, because in an instant he had hardened his gaze and turned up his lip into a sneer, at which point the Loki she was more than familiar with returned to them. He shook his head and gave a rather arrogant smile that made her sympathy for him shrink.

"The thought _did _occur to me, yes," Loki replied. "There are many issues that Thor and I have yet to resolve, but I would like to think that my husband has enough sense to separate his private life from his princely duties. We are on the verge of _war _with Jotunheim! I would gladly make amends with Thor, if it would prevent him from turning to a _mortal _for things he could easily get from Asgard! I do not see the appeal of one so weak that she would die before a life could be made."

"My," Fandral exclaimed, "you almost sound jealous!"

"I will not deny that I still hold a great affection for Thor, but I do not act out of jealousy, no matter what it is that you may think of me. Surely, you are aware of what may happen if it is discovered that he is engaging in an affair? I was once told that a wise ruler is ready for war, yet never seeks it, but what of a prince that _enables _war by giving into his selfish desires for romance?"

"We were actually discussing just that," Fandral continued, "although not quite in those exact words. Volstagg was arguing the benefits of going to Earth to retrieve Thor, but Lady Sif and I thought it best to wait for Thor to return to us. I wonder what you would suggest, Loki? You are a prince, after all."

"Here I thought that _I _was the one for sarcasm."

Loki merely stared into the flames. There came a great silence, as the occupants of the room appeared to consider what was happening between them, not least because any misspoken word from either party could lead to great conflict. They could not speak cruelly to the husband of their prince without being accused of treason, but nor could Loki speak out turn to them without proving he could not be trusted and sacrificing the freedoms he had earned.

They sat in an almost companionable silence for a long moment. They all wanted what was best for Thor and for their realm; the only difference between them came from their expression of their feelings. Loki sat with a dark scowl and an intense look of worry, whereas Fandral climbed to his feet again and began to pace back and forth, as if by moving he could somehow distract himself from his suffering. Sif felt the urge to burst into action quite strongly. She was sure that if she acted out of turn that Fandral or one of the others would hold her back, but she felt so helpless sitting in a room whilst Thor was out of their reach and in need of their words, and a part of her could not help but admire Hogun and Loki for their ability to hide their feelings and rely on talents beyond just action and physical strength.

"I suppose we will have to wait for Thor's return," Loki admitted gravely.

"I will talk to him," Sif said. "I am sure that he will listen to us. It may be that we are mistaken, that there is more to the situation than meets the eye, and with that being the case Thor has risked nothing at all."

"Your faith in Thor is so inspiring."

'_Prince Loki?'_

Loki stood far quicker than any of them. It seemed that he was already upon his feet before Sif had even noticed the guard's presence, and he made his way midway into the room with a swiftness that many a warrior would envy. Fandral followed not too far behind, with Volstagg also on his feet and pushing forward to hear what the guard had to say, whilst Hogun and Sif simply stood where they had sat and waited patiently for word of where their prince may be.

"What is it?"

"Prince Thor has returned."

It seemed as if a collective sigh of relief was released. She could see the way that Loki's shoulders sagged just slightly and the lines of worry eased about his face, and the laughter from Volstagg echoed about the room so loudly that she felt as if the very room itself might reverberate with his laughter. Sif drew in a deep breath and looked to Hogun, for even as Fandral smirked and scoffed she sensed something more, there was something left for the guard to say that had so far gone unsaid, and it seemed her stoic friend sensed this as well. He held her gaze for a moment and gave her a subtle nod. He had sensed what she had. There was more to be said.

"He is not alone," the guard reported. "Lady Jane Foster is with him."

Sif closed her eyes and raised her head the ceiling. The room felt thick with an oppressive feeling of dread, whilst a cold sweat broke over her skin and sent a dark shiver down her spine. It seemed that her faith in Thor had been somewhat misplaced, because against all reason – against the very laws the Allfather set – he had brought with him a mere mortal into their realm, a mortal that stood to destroy his union with Loki and potentially begin a new war.

She opened her eyes and looked about the room, hoping that she would see something in her companions that would make things easier to bear. Fandral seemed to lose his graceful posture and ran a hand across his features, Volstagg took a large step back with a look of horror, and Hogun seemed as emotionless as he had always been. It seemed that they shared in her sense of horror, for they knew what this signalled to come, and that was at the very least the restriction of the Bifrost's use for Thor and his companions, and at the worst the annulment of a marriage that kept Loki free and stabilised the two realms. She could only hope that the Allfather had not heard of this, so that they could perhaps return Jane before he learned of the truth.

Loki appeared almost beaten by what he had heard. He shook his head and cast his gaze low, but when he looked back up he seemed to wear a smile that was nothing but a broken mask. It was difficult to tell what he hid . . . fury, sorrow, regret, perhaps even a sense of betrayal . . . all that she could tell was that his hands clenched into dark fists and soon his smile was erased altogether, to be replaced with a rather stoic expression and a livid gaze. He did not wait to hear more. He immediately began to storm out of the rooms and waited for no one.

"That fool," Sif whispered.

It seemed her words could be aimed at either prince. She could feel a dark fear for how Loki would react to such a piece of news, as she knew that his jealousy had been severe even when they had been nothing more than brothers, but now – that he held the title of 'husband' and was treated as a prisoner – he would likely find his feelings of jealousy and inadequacy heightened. That was to say nothing of Thor who threatened everything with his romance. She shook her head and followed fast behind Loki, determined to confront her friend and prince. Thor's mind remained a mystery.

"That royal fool!"


End file.
